Wherever You Will Go
by Brandi Golightly
Summary: After being reportedly killed in action three years ago, Clint Barton returns to SHIELD. Things are different now, but most importantly, his partner and girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, has apparently moved on, professionally and romantically. Now, Clint must readjust to life while trying to win back the woman he loves.
1. Prologue

**So, this is the story I've been talking about for a while for those of you that were interested in it. This is just the prologue so it's kind of setting up Clint and Natasha pre-Clint's disappearance. I hope you guys like this because I'm really excited about this story haha. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Clint, Natasha, or any of the Avengers. They belong to Marvel. Also, the song lyrics below do not belong to me either. They belong to The Calling.**

* * *

_So lately, I've been wondering,_

_Who will be there to take my place._

_When I'm gone, you'll need love,_

_To light the shadows on your face._

_If a great wave should fall,_

_It would fall upon us all._

_And between the sand and stone,_

_Could you make it on your own?_

* * *

The first thing that Clint Barton thought of when he woke up was that he could really go for a blueberry muffin right about now. Well, that and he had to depart for a mission in less than four hours.

Clint didn't like solo missions unless it was just surveillance. Even then it was possible the mission would never go as planned. But this upcoming mission was surveillance and elimination. It would be pretty basic and Clint hoped he would be back within the week because…

From behind him, Clint felt the sheets shift and heard the bed creak as his bedmate turned towards him. With a ridiculous smile on his face, Clint turned onto his side to face the one person that mattered to him.

With a faint smile playing on her full lips, Natasha Romanoff moved closer to her partner and snuggled into his bare chest.

Clint and Natasha had traveled a long road to get to where they were today. After he made a different call in Manila and chose to bring Natasha into SHIELD, the two were partnered together. Initially, Natasha was cold and distant from Clint. She barely coordinated with him for missions, which typically led them to be sloppy in the field. After a mission in Cape Town nearly claimed Natasha's life, the pair began to reevaluate their tactics.

From that point on, they trained together every chance they got. When they weren't on a mission or being debriefed by Fury, they spent hours on end together in the gym. They spent so much time together that they became so attuned to one another that they could practically sense the other from across a packed ballroom.

It wasn't until Budapest when they'd become a little more than partners. After a firefight in the middle of the streets, the assassins returned to their SHIELD safe house to clean their wounds. Clint had been a little too hopped up on pain meds because of a gash on his leg Natasha had stitched up, but that didn't mean what followed meant anything less than what it did.

From that point on, Clint and Natasha weren't quite sure what they were to one another, but one thing was for sure. Their relationship had changed. They were still partners. They could still be friends, but they didn't like using the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend." It seemed too romantic. Basically, they were a couple, but no one ever called them that to their faces unless they wanted to end up in SHIELD's medical wing.

Even after all that they'd been through, they were still in it together. They had an apartment together at Avengers Tower. Their partnership hadn't fizzled in the slightest. In fact, it seemed that their relationship had made it stronger.

The red-headed assassin nuzzled her hawk's neck and the archer smiled to himself before pressing a kiss to his partner's hair. Even after the Battle of New York, Clint and Natasha went on solo missions. They despised the absences with a passion – especially since neither one of them knew how the other was until they returned – but they had to do it. Otherwise, SHIELD would kick them to the curb.

"Do you really have to go on this mission?" Natasha asked as she buried her face in Clint's neck.

Snaking an arm around her back, Clint chuckled. "Yes, I really have to," he said. "But I'll be back in no time. It's just surveillance and elimination."

"Can't they get someone else to do it?" the female assassin whined.

"Probably," Clint said with a shrug. "But no one else is as good a shot as I am."

"Agreed," Natasha grumbled.

The assassins stayed in bed for a couple more minutes until Clint's alarm went off. He turned the alarm off and, much to Natasha's reluctance, climbed out of bed to start getting ready. Almost a minute later, Natasha climbed out of bed as well.

They got ready in silence. Clint pulled on his SHIELD uniform while Natasha slipped into a pair of gym shorts and a ratty, old t-shirt that she wore when she went to the gym. Clint quickly glanced over his shoulder to find Natasha padding into the bathroom to pull her hair up into a ponytail. Quickly, he reached into his sock drawer and pulled out a small item before shoving it into the pocket of his SHIELD uniform.

"Okay, are you ready to head to base?"

Clint, startled that Natasha had returned to the room, whipped around to face her. "Umm, yeah, yeah," he answered nervously.

Natasha eyed him suspiciously before pulling on her sneakers and tying them quickly and efficiently. Without a word to his partner, Clint grabbed his duffle bag and met her at the door to their bedroom. Silently, they traveled down the hall and into the elevator for the waiting car downstairs to take them to base.

Once they were loaded into the car, Clint and Natasha didn't say a word to one another. Even when they reached the SHIELD base and were escorted inside, they didn't say anything. Clint had been shepherded into a room to be briefed on his mission while Natasha headed to the gym to start her workout. Clint would come find her when he was finished. She knew he wasn't stupid enough to leave for his mission and not say goodbye.

Natasha was about 30 minutes into her workout when Clint strolled into the gym. She immediately stopped punching the punching bag and headed over to Clint. Fortunately, the gym was deserted. Then again, Natasha figured it was because she was here. No one really came to the gym when she was in it.

"All done?" she asked.

"Mhmmm," Clint hummed. "I know you're in the middle of your workout but do you maybe want to walk to the aircraft hangar with me?"

"I'd love to," the red-head said with a grin only reserved for Clint.

Never one for public displays of affection, they walked out of the gym side-by-side. They wove through the halls of SHIELD as they made their way to the aircraft hangar.

They strolled into the hangar side-by-side and stopped just before the Quinjet that was fueled up and ready to go for Clint's mission. They turned to one another, not saying a word. They had a strange habit of communicating in silence, but now wasn't the time for that.

"So, be careful, okay? I don't want you to come back with a gunshot to the gut," Natasha said.

"That was one time, Nat. And it wasn't my fault," Clint retorted.

"It's not that it's your fault. You just have a strange habit of getting shot," Natasha shot back.

Clint chuckled. "No promises, but I'll do my best."

"You better," the red-headed assassin said with a smirk.

At that moment, one of the hangar's personnel shouted for Clint, telling him that it was time to depart for his mission. Clint shouted back at the man and told him he'd be there in a second.

"Clint, you've got to go," Natasha ordered.

"I know. I know," he sighed. "But can you make sure you're here when I get back?"

The female assassin shook her head. "There are no guarantees. I could get sent on a mission too, you know."

"Just…try, okay?" he asked, or more like pleaded.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

"Good," Clint said simply.

"Any particular reason why?" Natasha inquired.

"I just really want to see you when I get back," Clint lied. There was a reason, but he wasn't going to tell her and spoil it.

"Mhmmm, okay Hawk," Natasha said sarcastically.

"Agent Barton," one of aircraft personnel shouted over the roar of the Quinjet's engine. "We're on a tight schedule. It's time to leave."

"Got it!" Clint growled and then turned back to Natasha. "I'll see you soon."

"Be careful, my Hawk," the red-head purred.

Forgoing their vow against public displays of affection, Clint pulled his red-headed Russian to his chest and passionately pressed his lips to hers. The wind from the jet whipped around the two assassins, causing Natasha to press closer to Clint's chest.

"You have to go," she whined against his lips.

"Don't want to," Clint mumbled against her lips.

"Go, my Hawk," she said with a smile as she pulled away from him. "I'll be waiting for you, right here, when you get back."

Clint grinned and then pressed another quick kiss to her lips before jogging towards the Quinjet. All of his weapons – his bow and quiver full of arrows, along with several guns and knives – were already loaded into the jet. All they needed was him.

He jogged up the ramp and quickly plopped into the nearest seat. He struggled to buckle himself in as the back door closed and the jet started to hurtle down the runway. Fortunately, the buckle snapped into place and Clint breathed a sigh of relief. Seconds later, the jet lifted into the air and Clint felt his stomach drop at the weightlessness.

They'd finally reached their appropriate altitude when Clint unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to a more convenient and comfortable seat. As he sat down, he noticed a small item protruding from underneath the fabric of his uniform pants. He'd completely forgotten he'd put it there but he was happy that he remembered.

Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out the black velvet box and popped it open. Nestled inside among the satin fabric was a simple diamond engagement ring. Clint smiled to himself as he plucked the ring from its perch and examined it. Natasha wasn't a jewelry person. Hell, she wasn't the marrying type, but Clint figured it was worth a shot. He loved his crazy Russian assassin partner. He wanted to make it official.

Clint smirked to himself and then tucked the ring in the bulletproof vest of his SHIELD uniform – right above his heart – where it would stay until he returned to propose to the woman of his dreams.

* * *

**I hope I've caught your interest! Please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think and whether I should continue!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you so very, very, very much for all the feedback from the prologue. If you've read any of my past stories, you know how I roll. I show no mercy haha. So, the first chapter is three years into the future so the events _Iron Man 3_ have happened and I'm assuming so have _Thor: The Dark World_ and _Captain American: The Winter Soldier_. I've seen _Iron Man 3_ so I've used plot points from that in this chapter but based on the summaries for _Thor 2_ and _Captain America 2__, _I just mentioned some small information. But just this chapter will include plot points from _Iron Man 3_. The rest of the story won't. Also, you can expect some Pepperony and some Stony (platonic and bromantic) in this chapter. Okay, enough of my rambling, but I had to mention that so you wouldn't get confused. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the lyric below. They belong to The Calling.**

* * *

_And maybe, I'll find out,_

_The way to make it back someday._

* * *

_**Three years later…**_

"Stark, I need you to report to base for a mission briefing."

Tony Stark, genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, dropped the bottle of champagne he had in his hand, the bottle shattering into a million pieces on the tiled floor of his perfectly polished kitchen.

"What the hell, Cyclops?" Tony spat at the director of SHIELD before turning his attention to the ceiling. "JARVIS, how could you let him up here without my consent?"

"My apologies, sir," the A.I. stated. "But it seems that he temporarily overrode my controls."

Tony scoffed. "Well, what use are you then?" he scoffed before turning back to Fury. "Look, I don't work for you, so why are you asking for my help?"

"You're an Avenger. And we're short staffed," Fury deadpanned.

There were things Tony would rather be doing than go on a mission for Fury. Celebrating his recent engagement with his fiancée, Pepper Potts, was at the top of the list. But Stark would make up an excuse that he had to do laundry if it meant that he didn't have to go on this mission.

Before Tony could even open his mouth, Pepper strolled into the kitchen, holding two champagne glasses. She glanced at the broken bottle on the floor – rolling her eyes at Tony – before turning her attention to Fury.

"Nick, it's so good to see you," Pepper said with a smile.

"Ms. Potts," Fury greeted with a nod. "I believe congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, Nick," Pepper said graciously. "What can we do for you?"

Fury clasped his arms behind his back and then strolled further into the kitchen. He sidestepped the shattered champagne bottle on the floor and approached Tony and Pepper. "There is an issue in Iran. Tehran, to be exact. We're short staffed and I've asked Tony if he would take on the mission."

Tony's eyes immediately flitted to Pepper to look for the reaction on her face. Tony could tell that Pepper was conflicted. Of course she wouldn't want him to leave. Due to their recent engagement, they'd been celebrating as much as possible. Tony couldn't even fathom what the actual wedding would be like if they were celebrating this much right now.

But at the same time, he could understand if she wanted him to go off and do the mission. Ever since getting the shrapnel removed from his chest and tossing his arc reactor into the ocean, Tony had lived a relatively normal life. Every so often, the world would need Iron Man and only then would he come out of hiding. But generally, Tony spent his time with Pepper and toiling away in his lab to invent some new technology.

"Hmm, I think you should do it, Tony," Pepper finally said.

"Ha! See Fury! She said – wait, what?" Tony sputtered as he turned to Pepper.

"I think you should do it. It would get you out of the house, get some fresh air," Pepper said with a shrug.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Whose side are you on anyways?"

Pepper shrugged. "Seeing as you broke our last bottle of champagne, you might as well, because there will be no celebrating without it," she said with a sly grin.

Did his fiancée just give him an ultimatum? Go on this mission or we will not celebrate this engagement anymore? Then again, he did drop their last bottle of champagne. And damn, it was expensive champagne from France. There was no way they'd be able to get another bottle for a while.

Tony groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Fine," he growled. He pulled his hands away from his face and glared at the director of SHIELD. "I'll go on your super secret mission."

"It's not a secret, Stark," Fury said. "And you're not going alone anyways. Rogers will be going with you."

Tony's eyes widened. "Well why didn't you say so!?"

Pepper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger while Fury just continued to stare without emotion.

"Well let's go Cyclops!" Tony exclaimed as he stepped over the broken champagne bottle. "We have a mission to complete!"

Fury shrugged and turned on his heel to head to the elevator. Tony, on the other hand, stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face Pepper. The strawberry blonde seemed pretty pleased with herself. She had a smug smirk on her face and her arms were folded across her chest.

"You're Satan, you know that?" Tony said.

"Call me that again and the engagement's off," Pepper shot back with a devilish smirk.

Tony gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"I would," Pepper said. "Besides, we've been celebrating too much. I need you to get out of the house so I can get some work done. The budget's not going to work itself out."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Fine," he griped and then leaned in to press a kiss to his fiancée's lips.

"Be careful," she mumbled.

Tony nodded and then jogged to the elevators. He reached Fury just in time for the elevator doors to open, welcoming them inside for the short ride to the lobby. Tony and Fury stepped in and Fury pressed the button for the main lobby.

As the elevator began its descent, Fury pulled a small electronic tablet from his black trench coat. He powered up the device and tapped away before handing it to Tony.

"Umm, I don't like - ."

"_Stark_," Fury growled.

"Okay, okay," Tony whined as he took the tablet from Fury. He began to scroll through the documents and photos, but all of it seemed like gibberish to him. He didn't give a crap about the people he was targeting. If they were bad guys, it was all Tony needed to know to take them out.

"HYDRA has popped up on our radar again," Fury said. "That's why Rogers is coming. He requested this mission."

"And what exactly are they doing?" Tony sighed as he skimmed the articles on the tablet.

"They're trying to redevelop Extremis."

The tablet slipped from Tony's hands and the billionaire grew stiff. For a split second, Tony felt his blood run cold. He thought this was all behind them. He couldn't let this happen again. He still had nightmares about losing Pepper. The feeling he had when he thought he'd lost her was still buried deep inside of him.

"See why I came to _you_ for this mission?" Fury gloated.

Anger radiated throughout Tony's body. His fists clenched and his shoulders tensed up.

"It's at a very early stage," Fury continued. "That's why we're eliminating them now."

Tony shook his head. "This is fucking ridiculous."

"We're going to eliminate them, Stark. You and Rogers make a great team. I don't doubt that you will deliver."

Tony nodded. The Avengers had been through far too much in the past three years. After they assembled, defeated Loki in the Battle of New York, and then went their separate ways, it seemed that everything fell to shit. The whole ordeal with Killian and Extremis nearly cost Tony his then girlfriend-now fiancée. Thor, supposedly, had to battle Nine Realms and nearly lost some woman from Earth named Jane Foster. Steve had to deal with the return of his best friend as the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes.

And then there was Clint and Natasha. But Tony wasn't going to think about that. The disappearance of the archer had been particularly hard on the whole team, but especially Natasha. Three years had gone by and still there was no sign of him. Though it was assumed that he was killed in action, Tony – and many of the other Avengers – still held out hope that he was out there somewhere.

Even though the Avengers were in shambles – physically, emotionally, and psychologically – they would always be around to take down the bad guys. It was their job. It would always be their job.

Tony sighed and then bent down to retrieve the tablet. He brushed the dirt off of the screen and then unlocked it to continue skimming through the documents.

"Still angry, Stark?" Fury asked.

Tony shook his head. "No," he said. "In fact, I'm determined. Let's take these bastards down."

* * *

After an uncomfortably long flight in a SHIELD Quinjet, Tony and Steve suited up and readied themselves for drop-in. The HYDRA base was located deep within the mountainous region of Tehran. Apparently, there was only a discreet entrance carved into the side of the mountain that was barely visible to an average citizen, but not for SHIELD. HYDRA couldn't hide from SHIELD.

"Drop point in 30 seconds!" Agent Maria Hill shouted over the roar of the engine.

The back of the Quinjet began to lower, revealing the mountainous terrain below.

"When you guys drop in, you'll have less than 30 seconds to infiltrate the base. The entrance is concealed but it's heavily guarded," Agent Hill yelled.

"Got it, Mrs. Fury!" Tony shot back. He lowered the face plate on his helmet before jumping out of the back of the Quinjet.

Steve shook his head at Tony's immature behavior. He checked his parachute pack, making sure it was tightly fastened to his body.

"You better go, Rogers, or you'll miss it!" Agent Hill shouted.

"Got it," Steve said. "See you, Agent Hill."

"Good luck, Rogers!"

Steve got a running start before launching himself out of the Quinjet. He felt his stomach drop as he felt gravity push him towards Earth.

"Stark, what's your location?" Steve said into his earpiece as he plummeted to Earth. He was reaching land more and more now so he would have to pull his parachute soon.

"Nearing 30 feet above land," Tony responded.

"Stark, you can't get too close. You'll blow our cover!" Steve shouted as he pulled the strap to release his parachute. He was tugged upright as the parachute caught onto the air and he started slowly floating down to Earth.

Suddenly, Steve heard several gunshots, followed by a round from a machine gun.

"Uh, Capsicle," Tony said. "Going to need your help right about now."

Steve groaned. "Stark, if you had just waited…"

Several more gunshots rang throughout the night and Steve let a curse word slip from his mouth. He struggled to maneuver the parachute in the right direction as he floated closer and closer to Earth.

When he was about ten feet above solid ground, he cut himself free from the parachute and plummeted to the ground. Landing on the balls of his feet, he unhooked his shield and thrust it at the guardsmen in one swift movement.

"Nice of you to show up," Tony snapped as he landed next to Steve and blasted a guard through the entrance of the HYDRA base.

The chaos died down, but only for a split second. From inside the base, an alarm sounded and Tony and Steve could hear the pounding of boots moving closer.

"You hold them off and I'll go find the lab to destroy the Extremis virus," Tony said.

"Got it," Steve said as he picked up his shield and tossed it through the entrance, taking out at least four HYDRA agents.

While Steve held down the fort outside, Tony rocketed through the tunnel, blasting several HYDRA agents in the process. Zooming through the tunnel, he turned into one of the first rooms and blasted all of the HYDRA agents before exiting the room. The more he took down, the less Steve would have to deal with. Besides, he might as well do it anyways. He had a long ways to go until he reached the lab they were experimenting with the Extremis virus.

Barreling down the hallway, Tony continued to blast several HYDRA agents. Many of them stayed hidden in the rooms but they couldn't hide from Tony. He wove in and out of every room, taking down every agent that cowered in fear of him.

After taking down a group of five agents in one room, Tony bolted from the room and turned a sharp corner, only to face a long hallway with a door at the end.

_That's got to be where Extremis is_, Tony thought.

Loading his thrusters to full power, he zipped down the hall and landed right outside the door. The door was colored pitch black and made of some sort of steel. There was a large bar across it that locked it from the outside, as well as an enormous padlock.

Tony shrugged. Extremis had to be behind this door. Why else would it be locked so efficiently?

The billionaire took a step back and charged his thrusters up to their highest capacity. He aimed his palm at the door and fired. The steel door flew off of its hinges and into the room with a _clang_.

Pretty pleased with himself, Tony marched into the room only to find it empty. In fact, it was dimly lit. Puddles of water on the floor reflected the dim light as well as a shadowy figure on the opposite side of the room.

"Stark, you find it yet?" Steve's voice echoed in Tony's ear.

The billionaire jumped. He'd practically forgotten he was on a mission. The disappointment that he still hadn't found Extremis was hitting him hard. "No, not yet," the billionaire said. "I'm in some sort of room at the end of a hallway that branches off from the main one. You finished outside?"

"Done," Steve answered affirmatively. "Heading in now. I'll start making my way straight down the tunnel."

"Good. I'll meet you there," Tony said. He started to turn when a moan echoed from inside the empty room. Tony stopped dead in his tracks. He had planned to leave the shadowy figure alone, but that moan sent chills up his spine.

Tony turned around and squinted through the darkness in hopes of getting a better look at the figure. The figure didn't make another sound and Tony knew he should walk away. He had a job to do. However, deep down, he couldn't just walk away. What if this shadowy figure was someone that HYDRA had been experimenting on? What if they were being experimented on against their will? Tony couldn't leave them behind.

As if there was some sort of gravitational pull, Tony stepped further into the room. The water underneath his feet splashed with every step he took and he could hear the _drip-drip_ of a spigot from somewhere else in the room.

"Hey, uh, buddy," Tony said hesitantly. "You alright?"

The sound of chains rattling only confirmed Tony's suspicions that this was someone here against their will. This was a prisoner, an innocent. This was Tony's job. He had to rescue him.

Tony took several steps forward in order to get closer to the person in the shadows. They didn't move, nor did they make a sound, but Tony hoped they knew he wasn't going to hurt them. He hoped they knew he was here to rescue him.

Tony could tell he was about a foot away from the prisoner but he could barely see a damn thing. The dim light was only shining near the doorway so the prisoner was shrouded in darkness.

"JARVIS, some light please?" Tony asked.

The suit complied and shined some light on the prisoner. It took a couple seconds for Tony's eyes to focus. When they did, Tony gasped and stumbled backwards. Landing on the hard ground with a _thud_, Tony gaped at the sight in front of him.

His wrists were chained above his head and his feet barely skimmed the floor. He was only wearing a pair of black pants to shield himself from the elements. His chest was spattered with black and blue splotches while several cuts and wounds were healing up. On his temple was a fresh wound, the crimson red blood caked into the side of his face and smeared into his hair.

He didn't move. He didn't lift his head. He didn't say a word to Tony and Tony didn't say a word to him. The billionaire simply sat on the floor, staring in awe at the person in front of him.

"Tony, I've found the Extremis lab," Steve's voice cut in, snapping Tony back to reality.

Shaking his head, he stood and wrapped one arm around the man's torso. He blasted one of the chains free, the man's arm falling limply at his side. The man let out a pained whimper as Tony shifted his grip and blasted the second chain. Both Tony and the prisoner fell to the ground, landing in a heap of metal and flesh on the wet floor.

"Tony, I've destroyed the lab," Steve said. "Where the hell are you?"

Tony lifted up his face plate to get a better look at the man in his grasp. With the exception of the blood caked on the side of his face and the fact that he'd been held captive, he looked peaceful. His eyes were sealed shut and there was no sign of pain on his face.

"_Stark! Where are you? We've got to get out now!_" Steve shouted in Tony's earpiece.

"Rogers," Tony's voice cracked as he spoke up. "I need you to contact Fury."

"What? What's wrong? What happened?" Steve asked frantically.

Tony glanced down at the archer, who was still either fast asleep or unconscious. "Tell him I've found Barton."

There was a pregnant pause, an eerie silence, from Steve's end. "I'm sorry," the blonde sputtered. "Come again?"

"Barton," Tony said. As inappropriate as it seemed, a smile spread across Tony's face. "I've found Clint Barton."

* * *

In the SHIELD base cafeteria, Natasha Romanoff sat at a table in a secluded area, reading the debriefing packet from her last mission and absentmindedly eating some yogurt. It had been a simple mission, seduce and destroy. The guy barely saw it coming when she whipped out her gun and eliminated him. The look on his face had been priceless.

She was just turning the page to read about the elimination when her phone buzzed in her pocket. Natasha hoped it was another assignment. She was growing restless. It had been two weeks since the last mission and she was itching for another one.

She swapped the spoon from her left hand to her right so she could dig into her pocket and retrieve her phone. She screened the caller ID and saw that it was Fury. Suddenly, she was excited. He had to be calling about a new mission.

She swiped her thumb across the screen to unlock it and she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Agent Romanoff," the red head greeted.

"Natasha," Director Fury said from the other end.

Natasha stiffened. Fury never used her first name. He always called her "Agent Romanoff" or simply "Romanoff." The last time he addressed her as "Natasha" was…

"Natasha," Director Fury reiterated. "They've found Clint."

Her phone and the spoon clattered to the floor.

* * *

**Oh boy, they found him! I promise they weren't experimenting Extremis on him haha. But Clint's back and Natasha knows. Think this will go well? Of course not! Read the summary. It's going to go horribly! Haha.**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated so please review, review, review! I'd really like to know what you guys think!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter here for you. It's very descriptive but I hope you like it. I hope it gives you lots of feels haha. Enjoy!**

* * *

Six minutes. That's how long it took the SHIELD medical evac to reach them.

In that small amount of time, Clint didn't move. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't make a noise. If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of the archer's chest, Tony would've thought he was dead. Then he would've been in big trouble. Save the archer but accidentally kill him in the process. Yeah, that would go over well with Fury.

When the medical evac arrived, they loaded him onto a stretcher before he was whisked away to the Quinjet so they could begin running tests on him. First off was a test for the Extremis virus. If he'd been held captive by HYDRA, there was a chance the virus was running through his veins. They couldn't transport him through the air, let alone bring him onto the SHIELD base, if he was a threat.

After a long and strenuous test, he was deemed clean. By that time, the HYDRA base had been organized to make it seem like a fire engulfed it and killed everyone inside. Clint was strapped to a stretcher with several machines and tubes hooked up to him but the medics still continued to work on him. He was probably severely dehydrated and malnourished; they needed to get nutrients in him as soon as possible.

The Quinjet took off from the mountains exactly 13 minutes after it touched down. Steve and Tony were in the back, seated across from Clint. They watched as the medics worked to stabilize the archer. They couldn't do much while in the air, but at least they could prolong his life until they could access better resources at the SHIELD base.

The flight was a long one. Both Tony and Steve watched Clint with trepidation. They hoped he could hold on until they reached the base. If not, the mission was for nothing. Sure they destroyed the HYDRA base and the faulty Extremis virus, but if the archer didn't make it, then they failed.

Tony always knew, deep down, that Clint was still out there, and here he was. He knew the archer wouldn't give up without a fight.

Suddenly, it was starting to sink in that they'd finally found Clint. Even though Tony always knew that he was out there, still hanging on, he never thought he'd be the one to find him, to rescue him. He always thought another SHIELD agent would come across him on one of their missions and Tony would hear the news secondhand. Never in a million years did Tony think he'd be the one to recover and rescue Clint Barton.

"Holy shit balls!" Tony gasped. "This is really happening, isn't it?"

Steve let out a breathy chuckle. "I guess it is, isn't it?"

"We found him! Fucking hell, _we_ found him!"

"Tony, keep your voice down," Steve hissed.

The billionaire scoffed, sticking his nose in the air. The pair sat in silence as they continued to watch the medics work on Clint. About 20 minutes after takeoff, Clint's body had stabilized and the medics were convinced he was going to make it. He was severely dehydrated and malnourished. He was definitely concussed and there was a possibility that he had been drugged at some point. Other than that, the medics were convinced he'd make a full recovery.

The rest of the flight passed in silence with the exception to the faint beeping of the monitors Clint was hooked up to and the hissing of the wind as the aircraft cut through the air. It had been three years since Steve and Tony had seen the archer, which was far too long ago for their liking. But even though it had been a long time ago, the man looked no different. It didn't seem like he'd aged despite being held in captivity for an extended amount of time.

Tony and Steve couldn't fathom what he'd been through, but at the same time, they could. Steve lost nearly 70 years of his life while frozen in ice. Tony had been taken hostage by a terrorist group – later revealed to be organized by Obadiah Stane – in Afghanistan. They knew almost exactly what he'd gone through, but then again, maybe they didn't.

Whatever had happened to him, they were happy he was back and safe. They knew it would take a while for him to adapt to life again, but they'd be there for him. Sure Tony liked to joke around and hurl insults at him, but there was a time and place for that, and now was not the time or the place. He was going to make sure the archer was as comfortable as he readjusted to life in Avengers Tower. And even if he did mess with him, Tony knew Pepper would give him a good wallop up the side of the head.

But as Tony thought about Clint's absence for the past three years, he realized there would a lot the archer would have to catch up on. For example, Tony and Pepper were engaged. That would surely come as a surprise to Barton. Banner had managed to track down his love, Betty Ross; they now keep in contact frequently but Bruce still insists on keeping his distance. Thor comes and goes, but only to visit a physicist named Jane Foster. Steve had even started seeing a SHIELD agent by the name of Sharon Carter, a descendant of Peggy Carter's.

But there was one person that Tony knew Clint would want to know about. A lot can happen in three years.

"D-do you think Romanoff knows?" Tony whispered. He was hesitant to ask Steve. Natasha still terrified Tony to his core. But when Clint disappeared, something changed in the red-headed assassin. She was hard to read on a normal day, but after Clint disappeared, forget even trying to figure out what she was thinking or how she was feeling.

Steve sighed, shifting his shield in his lap. "I don't think Fury wouldn't tell her. They were partners."

"They were _more_ than partners, Capsicle," Tony squealed.

"Tony," the blonde hissed. "Stay out of it. You know how Natasha is. I think she'll want to see him, but this is going to be hard for her too."

"But they were in _love_!" the billionaire hissed.

Steve sighed and then bowed in his head in defeat. "Look, whatever happens, happens. Natasha's moved on."

"_Yeah_," Tony snapped. "But that's recent. It took her a while to get over Barton's disappearance. There's still hope, Spangly!"

"_Stark_," Steve growled. "Just let it go."

Tony didn't want to let it go, the argument nor the SHIELD assassins' romantic involvement with one another. Tony knew Natasha had moved on, but that didn't mean Tony had to like the guy she was with. Hell, the billionaire's been waiting for an excuse just to punch the guy in the face.

"Tony, I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm going to say this one more time. _Stay out of it_," Steve hissed.

Tony shook his head, but stayed quiet nonetheless. Telling Tony Stark not to pry was like telling a little kid not to climb on the counter to get cookies out of the cookie jar. He was going to do it, no matter how many times you told him.

Suddenly, the Quinjet hit some turbulence and the cabin of the aircraft started to jerk around.

"Sorry guys," the pilot tossed over his shoulder as he regained control of the aircraft. "We're getting closer to base and New York's got some windy weather today. We're going to land in about 20 minutes."

In about 20 minutes, there was no telling what would happen. All hell could break loose or absolutely nothing could happen. There could be a tearful reunion or the sound of shocked silence could drown everyone. Either way, it was going to be interesting setting foot on the New York SHIELD base.

* * *

Three years ago, Natasha Romanoff stood in this same exact spot to say goodbye to Clint Barton before he embarked on a surveillance and elimination mission. He never came back. Until now.

Natasha didn't know what to expect when that Quinjet touched down on the runway and skidded to a halt in front of her. He could be holding on for dear life or he could merely stroll out of the Quinjet and smile that ridiculous smile of his that she loved so much.

_Fuck you, Barton_, she thought to herself. _Do you even realize what you've done to me?_

She felt a presence behind her. Only one person could sneak up on her and that person just so happened to be on the incoming Quinjet. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps as they grew closer until she noticed a figure sidle up next to her out of the corner of her eye.

"He's alive, you know," Director Fury said.

_Good_, she thought. _Because if he was dead, I'd bring him back to life and then fucking kill him again._

"The medics said he's probably concussed, but definitely malnourished and dehydrated. He's probably been drugged too," Fury said.

SHIELD's director and the red-head assassin stood in silence on the tarmac, awaiting the arrival of the Quinjet. Natasha's arms were folded across her chest but her nails were digging into her upper arms. She used to think that the Battle of New York was the most difficult event in her life that she had to overcome. No, not anymore because this had it beat by a mile.

"Director Fury," buzzed Fury's walkie-talkie from his belt. "We're about a half mile out. You should be able to see us."

Both Fury and Natasha's head snapped up and they spotted the incoming black aircraft. The aircraft hangar personnel began to scatter as they started to shepherd the aircraft onto base. Soon enough, the Quinjet was hovering over the tarmac and Natasha's heart started to race. Slowly but surely, the Quinjet lowered itself to solid ground before landing with a creak from the heavy metal.

Natasha couldn't help but hold her breath as she waited for the rear of the Quinjet to lower. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what she _wanted_ to expect.

So she just held her breath and waited.

* * *

Clint was roused from his slumber when he heard a thump. His mind was foggy and his vision was blurry but he was definitely awake.

From what he could see, he was inside a SHIELD Quinjet, something he hadn't seen in quite a while. But how he got here, he wasn't sure. The last thing he remembered was those HYDRA bastards chaining him in that dank and dark room in Tehran. After that, he was pretty sure he blacked out.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him started to move. The archer felt nauseous at the sudden movement. SHIELD medics were gathered around him but he wasn't paying attention to them. He was desperately trying to ease the nausea. Otherwise, he was pretty sure he was going to upchuck all over the clean, white uniform of one of the medics.

The ground shifted beneath him as he was rolled down a ramp and onto the tarmac. The brightness of the sun didn't ease his nausea. In fact, it made it worse. Swallowing was the only thing that kept the bile from rising in his throat.

The sunlight was too bright for him and he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness. The drugs being pumped into his system were making him drowsy and the sunlight was just way too bright for his sensitive eyes. Plus, the incessant shouting from the medical team didn't help.

As he was shepherded towards the SHIELD base, the archer started to slowly slip back into unconsciousness. Staying awake was quickly draining all the energy from his body. Besides, it seemed like a better idea to just let the drugs take over anyways.

The archer was about to slip back into his peaceful slumber when he heard one distinct voice above all the rest.

"What's wrong with him!?"

It had been three years since he'd heard that voice. That sweet and sultry voice that captivated thousands of men before the woman it belonged to snapped their necks. That sweet and sultry voice had uttered his name out of pain, out of hurt, out of anger, and, most importantly, out of love.

"We need to get him to the medical wing, Agent Romanoff," one of the medics said. "I suggest you get out of the way."

Clint hadn't realized the movement had ceased and the voices had grown silent. Even through his drug-induced haze, he was anxiously awaiting a reply. It must have been a silent one for the movement started up again, as did Clint's nausea.

The archer's head lolled to the side just as he began to feel the drugs take him under again. Just before his eyes slid shut, he saw a flash of red to his right. He wanted to tell the medics to stop. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her that he was sorry. But he was just too tired.

The archer sighed and relaxed as he let the drugs do their job. His eyelids slowly began to slide shut and his nausea began to subside. But he couldn't get the flash of red out of his mind. There was a part of him that wanted to stay awake just for her, but those damn drugs were just too powerful.

He was inside – what he assumed – the SHIELD base when he finally gave in to the drugs. He was just slipping into unconsciousness when he felt the need to utter one single word.

"Tasha."

And then the darkness consumed him.

* * *

**Oh boy, he's back! Natasha's seen him. Clint said her name. Tony ships them like there's no tomorrow. Will I ever give you guys an update without a cliffhanger? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Sorry the delay in updates. It was Memorial Day Weekend this past weekend so I was working a lot. But I finally got this chapter finished! I hope you guys like it! Enjoy!**

* * *

When Clint came to the next time around, there was a strong smell of sterility. There was also the faint sound of beeping as well as hushed voices. Though he was awake, he didn't quite want to open his eyes. He knew exactly where he was and he didn't want to be greeted by the bright fluorescent lights of the SHIELD infirmary.

"He's coming to."

"You think he's okay?"

"_The archer awakens!_"

Clint winced at the booming of the God of Thunder's voice, but he was glad to hear it. They knew he was awake so he figured he might as well open his eyes.

Slowly, Clint cracked open his eyes only to be greeted by the bright fluorescent lights. He quickly shut them before trying again. He opened his eyes slower this time, squinting at the brightness of the fluorescent lights and white walls.

It had been a while since he'd been inside the SHIELD infirmary. Three years to be exact, and he still felt the same about it. He _hated_ the SHIELD infirmary with a loathsome passion. But since he had been held in captivity for three years, Clint figured he'd been spending quite some time in the infirmary. There was no way they'd release him so soon.

When his eyes finally focused, Clint blinked a couple times before glancing around the room. It was a simple SHIELD infirmary room with its typical hospital bed and various medical equipment. The plastic chairs for guests were empty but Clint could still hear the hushed whispers from within the room.

His eyes traveled across the room to find the Avengers – Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Thor – all staring back at him. None of them said anything. They just stared at the archer with anticipation, waiting for him to say something.

None of them had changed a bit since Clint had seen them three years ago. Of course, Bruce's hair looked unrulier and shaggier than usual while Thor looked slightly more buff. Tony was dressed down but his hair was still coiffed to perfection. Steve was the only one who looked relatively the same. But then again, when he had been trapped in ice for over 70 years, he still looked the same.

However, there was one thing all of his teammates had in common: exhaustion. The four of them looked like they hadn't slept in days. Despite being indoors, Tony had sunglasses on his face, which was concealing either his exhaustion or a really nasty hangover. Steve's body looked tired. Thor had unusual dark circles around his eyes while Bruce was unnaturally pale. Was he the reason for their exhaustion? What exactly did he do to them? Had he been on the brink of death and just didn't know it?

Despite the situation, Clint was thrilled to see his teammates. Three years was a long time and even though they fought like siblings, he was glad he was waking up to see them and not HYDRA.

"H-hey guys," Clint croaked weakly.

"You've got some nerve, Legolas. You don't call, you don't write. Three years, Katniss!" Tony piped up.

Weakly, Clint chuckled as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He felt the twinge of the IV needle in his hand and he winced at the small pinch. "Yeah, well, not exactly my fault," the archer sighed as he relaxed against the pillows. "So, what's the damage?"

Bruce stepped forward and produced a clipboard from behind his back. He flipped a paper up and then began to recite the archer's injuries. "Three broken ribs, a concussion, cuts ranging from minor to severe that needed stitches, several bruises, and drugged with God knows what. SHIELD's working on it."

The scientist sighed as he lowered the clipboard and looked at the archer. Clint had looked worse in the past. Hell, he'd been on the brink of death in the past. Being drugged was nothing compared to what he'd experienced.

"So, I'm in the clear? I can leave the infirmary?" Clint asked excitedly.

"Not exactly," Steve chimed in. "You need to build your strength back up and SHIELD wants to run a psych evaluation."

"Psych evaluation!?" Clint hissed. "That's ridiculous! I'm fine!"

"Clint, you've been in captivity for the past three years. Who knows what they've done to you," Bruce mused.

"I _know_ what they did to me," the archer growled. "They beat me. They tortured me. They drugged me and experimented on me. If anyone needs a psych evaluation, it's those fuckers."

The four Avengers glanced at one another. Clint did have a point, but all of them knew HYDRA was insane. They didn't need a psych evaluation to figure that out. However, they didn't know what Clint's three years in captivity did to him psychologically. They knew his experiences prior to SHIELD haunted him, but three years in captivity can take a huge psychological toll on someone.

"Maybe we can push it back," Bruce suggested. "I don't have a lot of authority around here but maybe I can ask someone to postpone it until your physical recovery is finished."

"Great. That makes me feel fantastic," Clint grumbled as he shifted in the uncomfortable bed.

Clint watched his teammates as they eyed him. Of course they would be on high alert. Clint had had had a notorious reputation for escaping the medical wing and there was no way that reputation was going to go away. There was no doubt they were waiting for him to spring from the bed and try to get away at any moment.

However, at the moment, their suspicious glares were the least of Clint's worries. The thing that bothered him the most was that only four of his teammates were standing at the foot of his bed. Last he checked he had five teammates, and the missing teammate was the person that mattered to Clint the most.

"Hey, umm," Clint started, clearing his throat. "You guys, where's Natasha?"

Clint saw all four of his teammates visibly stiffen. A grave feeling washed over Clint. Had she been killed? Was she away on a mission?

_No_, Clint thought. _There was no way I imagined seeing her when I arrived on base._

"Is…is she okay?" Clint asked hesitantly, nervously swallowing.

The four Avengers looked to one another once again for reassurance. They weren't quite sure if they should break the news to him or if Natasha should. However, they knew that if they told him, Natasha would rip their asses a new one.

"Umm, Clint," Steve said nervously. He stepped forward and gripped the footboard of the bed. His eyes were soft, caring, and sympathetic.

"_No_," Clint growled. "There's no way I imagined her when I arrived on base. I may have been half out of it and drugged up, but there was no way I imagined her voice and her red hair."

"No, no, no!" Steve answered quickly. "She's fine but…" The blonde trailed off and then turned to his teammates for backup.

Steve anxiously looked to Tony for help. The billionaire stepped forward and stood next to the blonde. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans.

"Look Legolas," Tony sighed. "This is something you need to work out with Red. But we can't drag her here against her will. First, she'd never allow it and second, she terrifies us. She'll come see you in time."

Clint stared at his teammates. There was something they weren't telling him, something of major importance. But like they said, it was something he needed to talk to Natasha about. The archer just wished Natasha would come visit him.

"Well, where is she now?" Clint questioned.

Steve shrugged. "She kind of disappeared after you arrived. We're not going to bother her. You know how she gets."

Clint nodded in agreement. If he knew his Natasha, she'd come when she felt it was the right time. There was no need to pressure her.

Suddenly, Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Okay, so, should we get going? Robin Hood needs his rest."

There was a round of nods and mumbles before the group started to make their way out of the room. They said goodbye to Clint and wished him luck on getting better before filing out of the room one by one.

Tony was the last one out of the door, but he hesitated in the hallway just outside of Clint's room. Clint watched him with curiosity, wondering why the billionaire was lagging behind. Then, Tony turned on his heel and strode back into the room. He lingered just inside the door, but kept his eyes focused on Clint.

"You're still welcome at the tower when you get released," Tony said. "We didn't get rid of any of your stuff. It's just in storage."

Clint nodded. "Thanks Stark."

Tony nodded and then turned on his heel to depart the room without another word. Clint lied in his bed, partially expecting his teammates to return. But after a couple minutes, he knew that they were gone for good.

The archer sighed and relaxed against the lumpy pillows. He'd just woken up from a lengthy slumber, but he was still incredibly exhausted. It was probably the drugs SHIELD was pumping into him, or maybe he was legitimately tired.

Either way, Clint slumped down into the bed and adjusted the scratchy blanket before drifting off into the abyss.

* * *

The next time Clint came to, he figured it had to be early in the morning. The hallway was eerily silent and the lights in his room had been dimmed. The beeping of the monitors had been silenced but Clint could tell they were still on due to the faint whirring sound.

The archer grunted as he adjusted his position in the uncomfortable bed. He was still tired and since he had no obligations, he was going to fall back asleep. He shifted in the bed – carefully so as not to disturb the IV that was feeding him pain meds and nutrients – and then relaxed against the pillows.

His eyes were fluttering shut when he heard the scrape of a chair from his right. His instincts kicked in and his eyes snapped open. His head jerked to the right and he squinted to peer through the dim light.

"Calm down, Barton."

That voice. That voice made his heart stop. A dark figure from the corner stood from their chair and strode forward into the light. Even in the dim light, her red hair crackled like fire and her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. She looked like she hadn't slept in days and Clint figured it had something to do with him.

There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was paler than usual. But other than that, she looked fine. There were no unusual scars or bruises. She still had all of her limbs and as far as Clint knew, she was still the same psychologically scarred girl he'd saved from elimination years ago.

"You look like shit, Barton," Natasha said monotonously, her voice cutting through Clint's thoughts like a knife.

"Three years in captivity will do that to you," Clint said, keeping his voice calm and even. "You should know a little something about that."

The red head smirked but didn't say a word. She turned back to the chair in the corner and dragged it to the edge of Clint's bed. Despite the drugs being pumped through his veins, the archer still winced as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Those broken ribs were a bitch.

"What time is it?" Clint grunted.

"A little after four in the morning," Natasha said as she sat down in her chair. She checked her watch for reassurance before nodding in affirmation.

Clint and Natasha sat in silence for a couple minutes, not quite sure what to say to one another. There was so much to say, but neither one of them knew exactly where to start. They'd lost three years with one another, and yet, neither one of them could even manage to look the other in the eye.

Clint was the first to speak, but it had been a great internal battle. Deciding what to say was the hardest decision he had to make.

"Umm, h-how've you been, Nat?"

_You haven't seen her in three years and that's what you've got to say?_ Clint growled internally.

The red head stiffened, almost as if it pained her to hear the nickname. Even in the dimness of the light, Clint could see the muscles in her forearms tense, a strange involuntary reaction that happened when she got nervous.

Nervously, Clint swallowed. "Umm, are you okay?"

"Just peachy," Natasha growled through clenched teeth.

"Look, Tasha, I'm sorry. This wasn't my fault. It's not like I purposely got myself captured," Clint said.

"I know, Clint," she sighed. "I know you're a better SHIELD agent than that."

"Then why are you acting so cold towards me?" the archer inquired.

The red head grew silent. Her deathly stare bore into Clint's tired blue-grey eyes, causing the archer to shift uncomfortably in the hospital bed.

"I haven't seen you for three years," the red head said evenly and calmly.

"I know," Clint said.

"And you expect me to just welcome you back with open arms?" she inquired.

"Umm, yes?" Clint answered nervously and hesitantly.

Her malicious eyes were narrowed to slits, glaring at the archer deviously. Clint was really starting to grow uncomfortably. At the moment, he wished HYDRA was still holding him captive because that seemed a lot safer than enduring the wrath of the Black Widow.

"Look, Tasha - ."

"_Don't call me that,_" she snapped.

The archer felt like he'd been slapped in the face. This wasn't his Natasha. This wasn't the Natasha he'd left behind three years ago. This wasn't even the Natasha he'd fought side-by-side with in Budapest.

This was the feral Natasha he'd been sent to kill in Manila. This was the Natasha who didn't care. If this was the Natasha he knew and loved, she wouldn't be gripping the arm rests of the plastic hospital chair right now. His Natasha wouldn't be staring him down like he was dinner. His Natasha wouldn't be sitting in that goddamn plastic chair, distant and cold. His Natasha would be sitting on the edge of his hospital bed with her fingers laced through his.

This wasn't his Natasha. He didn't know who this was, but he didn't like her.

"Natasha, what happened to you?" the archer whispered.

The red head tensed up again. "What happened to me? _What happened to me?_" she hissed. "My partner disappeared on me for three years. I spent the majority of those three years hoping he'd come back. I went against Fury's wishes to go on missions that were supposed to lead to him. And just when I'd started to move on, _he fucking comes back!_"

The red head was seething. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. Her hands were gripping the arm rests, her pale white flesh stretched across her knuckles.

"Okay, Natasha," the archer said calmly and softly, raising his hands in defense. "Just breathe. I'm really sorry, okay? Forget I said anything."

Natasha relinquished her grip on the arm rests of the chair and then leaned forward to put her head in her hands. Her fingers threaded into her red curls; her nails dug into her scalp.

"Do you even realize what your disappearance did to me?" the red head whimpered, not even bothering to lift her head. "I may have risked everything to find you, but it broke me."

Suddenly, Natasha lifted her head and stared at Clint. Her eyes were emotionless, but hard and ice cold at the same time. "You were the only person I could open up to, and then you were gone. I reverted back to the way I was before I let you in."

Taking a deep breath, the red head's eyes never left the archer's. "I just don't think I can do that again."

Clint shook his head in disbelief. "Natasha, it's okay," he said softly. "It's not like I've changed or anything. Those fuckers just held me captive for three years. I'm still the same person - ."

"There's someone else, Barton."

He could get past her calling him "Barton." He could get past the ice cold tone. But those three words cut through him like a knife. _There's someone else_. But in all honesty, did he really expect the Black Widow, of all people, to sit around and wait for him like some fucking princess in a fairy tale?

_Love is for children_, her voice echoed in his head.

Swallowing heavily, Clint composed himself and then nodded his head. "O-okay," he choked out.

"I'm sorry, Barton," she said. "I'm glad you're back. We can all rest easier at night, but…" The red head stopped and drew in a deep, shaky breath. "But that's about all I have to say. It's time to move on."

Clint never thought he'd get this feeling, the one where it felt like someone was ripping his heart out of his chest like they mentioned in the movies and TV shows. But that's just what Natasha did. She ripped his chest wide open, tore out his heart, and then chucked it into an incinerator. The woman hadn't seen him for three years and she was breaking up him while he was recovering in the hospital.

_Wow, way to kick a man while he's down, Tasha_, he thought darkly.

"I'm sorry, Barton," she reiterated. "I really am, but I wasted so much time waiting for you like in those stupid ass movies. Now, I've finally moved on. I'm glad you're back, but I think it's time you moved on too."

Clint nodded glumly. "Yeah, I get your point," he grumbled.

Natasha bit her lower lip as she stared at the archer. They sat in silence, the whir of the hospital equipment filling the empty void. After enough uncomfortable silence, Natasha sighed and stood from her chair. She pushed it back into the corner and then crossed the room to head out the door.

However, the red head hesitated in the doorway, her left hand resting lightly on the doorframe. After a couple seconds, she pivoted so that she was facing Clint.

"I'm glad you're back. Really, honestly, and truly," she said.

Clint shrugged.

"Get some rest, Barton," she murmured. "I'll see you around."

With that, the red head was gone from the room. Clint sat in bed, his mouth agape and his thoughts buzzing. He'd lost three years of his life and now, he'd lost his Natasha. What was going to happen next? Was Fury going to come in and tell him he'd lost his job too?

The archer shook his head in disbelief before sinking down in the hospital bed. He wasn't tired, especially not after that conversation, but he was mentally exhausted. The only way to fix it was let sleep invade his body for the thousandth time in the past 24 hours and let fate figure out the rest.

* * *

**Oh dear, what have I done? Haha. I think I made Natasha a little too volatile, but hey, she's probably like that in the comics (and I've never read the comics so I wouldn't know). But don't worry, I promise Tony will meddle like he always does. And maybe a little mischief on Clint's part too.**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! Tremendous amounts of feedback motivate me to update quicker so kudos to you guys! 13 reviews for the last chapter so keep them coming! A lot of you were REALLY angry at Natasha but she doesn't make an appearance this chapter. Instead, we have some team bonding and I finally reveal who Natasha's significant other is. I hope you like it! Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint was released from the SHIELD infirmary after three days. By that time, the archer had fled his hospital room five times to his nest on the roof of the SHIELD base. After being essentially dumped by Natasha, he needed some peace and quiet just for five goddamn minutes in his life and the SHIELD infirmary was not the place for that.

When he was released, Tony was waiting outside the doors for him with Happy leaning against a black town car. Tony clapped Clint on the back while Happy offered his hand for a handshake before the trio piled into the car to head to Avengers Tower.

Despite Bruce's hard work, Clint still had to have the psych evaluation, but the scientist was only able to get it pushed back for two weeks. It gave Clint plenty of time to physically heal, but the archer was still reluctant to have it done. Unfortunately, Bruce told Clint that he had to have it done or he wouldn't be cleared to return to the field. So, the archer pouted like a five-year-old and agreed to the date SHIELD had offered to schedule his evaluation.

Thinking about all the downtime Clint would have between now and his psych evaluation made him grow restless. His mind was racing just thinking about it. He'd never had this much free time, not even after the Battle of New York. He and Natasha had been given a month's leave, but four days into the vacation, they were called back to base for a mission.

_Wait, stop thinking about Natasha,_ the archer thought gloomily. _She clearly doesn't care about you, so why should you care about her?_

"Ah, home sweet home," Tony crooned from his seat next to Clint.

Clint was ripped from his thoughts and peered out the window at the towering skyscraper in front of them. The car rolled to a halt outside the front doors of the tower and Happy climbed out of the driver's side to open the door for Tony. Impatiently, Clint pushed open his own door and stepped out of the car to gaze at the tower.

The archer had to admit that he was happy to be back at Avengers Tower. After the Battle of New York, the skyscraper had become his home. And even though Tony was pretty much his landlord, it wasn't so bad living in the same building as him. It was even nice passing by Bruce or Steve as they were coming or going. They were almost like the characters on _Friends_, except if you walked into Clint's apartment, you could expect an arrow to the knee in less than a second.

"All right, Feathers. That's enough gawking. It's hotter than hell outside and I don't want to sweat in this Armani suit," the billionaire said as he sidled up next to the archer.

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony and then stepped forward to head into the building. Happy jogged forward and opened the door for the archer and the billionaire. Mumbling a polite thank you, Clint stepped into the building with Tony on his heels.

The lobby of the building was just as Clint remembered it, too. With the exception of a few minor details, such as furniture and staff, it was exactly the way Clint remembered it from three years ago.

"So, we dug all of your stuff out of storage last night and moved it to the 16th floor," Tony said as he fell into step next to Clint. "We didn't unpack any of it. _I_ wanted to, but Pepper told me no so we just set them into the rooms they belonged to."

"Thanks," Clint mumbled. They reached the elevators and the archer pressed the button to call the elevator. In a few seconds, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Clint, Tony, and Happy loaded onto the elevator and Happy pressed the button corresponding to the 16th floor.

The trio rode in the elevator in silence, watching as the numbers went in ascending order as the elevator traveled upwards. It wasn't long until the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. The archer had barely stepped out of the elevator when he was greeted with a shower of confetti.

"Surprise!"

Gathered in front of him were his teammates – Steve, Bruce, and Thor – along with Pepper, Maria Hill, and Jane Foster, whom Clint had met briefly following the Battle of New York. They were all wearing cheap party hats on their heads with the exception of Thor, who was baffled by the cardboard party novelty. Each of them was holding a flute of champagne in their hands, raised slightly in Clint's honor.

With a smile on her face, Pepper Potts bounded forward and greeted Clint. She pulled him in for a hug and then pecked him on the cheek.

"Welcome back, Clint!" she chirped when she pulled away from him.

"Thank you, Pepper," the archer said with a grin.

"I know this is probably a little much," the strawberry blonde said as she gestured towards the group. "You probably just want some peace and quiet, but - ."

"Nope," Clint disagreed, shaking his head. "It's great. Thanks Pepper."

The CEO grinned and then plucked a flute of champagne from one of the end tables to hand to Clint. She grabbed two more and then offered them to Happy and Tony. Happy took the champagne while Tony held up his hands.

"I don't like - ."

"_Anthony_," Pepper growled.

The billionaire rolled his eyes then took the flute of champagne from his fiancée. Tony took a quick sip of the golden liquid and then gave Clint a light shove. The man stumbled forward and then glanced over his shoulder to scowl at Tony, but he strolled further into the apartment anyways.

Even though Clint had seen Thor, Bruce, and Steve a couple days ago, it was nice to see them again. Clint had been a bit of a loner before and after the Battle of New York, but three years in captivity can make someone extremely desperate for company. He could be in the company of a possum and he'd still be satisfied.

The gathering wasn't much and it turned out to be Pepper's idea. When the strawberry blonde took credit, Tony jumped in and tried to get credit as well.

"Well, it's in the building I own!" the billionaire scoffed.

"I'll give you 12% of the credit," Pepper replied with a smirk and then took a sip of her champagne.

Despite his alienation prior to his capture, Clint was glad to catch up with his teammates. He'd found out that Bruce had reconnected with Betty Ross but had chosen to keep his distance to ensure her safety; they still keep in contact. Though Clint had met Jane Foster following the Battle of New York, it had been a brief introduction. Clint had already met Erik Selvig and he found that Ms. Foster was just as clever and brilliant as Selvig.

As for Steve, he'd had a rough couple of years following Clint's disappearance. Two years after Clint disappeared, Steve and Natasha were assigned a mission in D.C. to take down a hostile force that was an enemy to both the State and SHIELD. After cornering the man, it was a shock to find that the hostile force was Steve Rogers' friend, Bucky Barnes.

"I watched him fall to his death," Steve said as he recounted the story to Clint. "And now I find out he's alive and a brainwashed assassin…" Steve had trailed off, unable to finish his sentence; Clint got the message. The archer could sympathize with the hero, but that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about at the moment.

Finally, the biggest surprise came when Tony and Pepper revealed their engagement. For a couple seconds, the archer didn't know what to say. He was happy for them, especially since he knew Pepper was the only woman who could handle Tony Stark.

"Well, shit, I'm happy for you guys!" Clint finally exclaimed.

Pepper giggled while Tony downed the rest of his champagne. "Your rescue was just the icing on top of the cake!" Pepper squealed. "Really, it's good to have you back."

The strawberry blonde reached out and patted him on the knee. Clint grinned in response.

It was about eight o'clock, after the group of friends had had one too many glasses of champagne, when the elevator doors slid open and out stepped a blonde woman. She was dressed in a skin tight catsuit. Even though everyone was partially inebriated, they didn't seem bothered by the woman's presence. Instead, she simply crossed the room and plopped down on the couch next to Steve.

"Oh, sorry Clint!" Steve apologized, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "This is Sharon Carter."

The blonde woman named Sharon leaned forward and offered her hand to the archer. Clint smiled at the woman and firmly grasped her hand for a shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you," Clint said.

"The pleasure's all mine," Sharon said with a smile. "I've heard so many great things about you. I'm glad you're back so I could actually meet you in person."

"Sharon's a descendant of Peggy's," Steve chimed in. "She works for SHIELD now."

"Oh," Clint said as he nodded in approval. "That's cool."

"Mhmmm," the blonde hummed. "I started at SHIELD not too long after you disappeared. I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I can't even imagine what you went through."

Clint shook his head. "Don't be," the archer said. "It comes with the job."

Sharon nodded and left it at that.

It was around ten o'clock when many of the women began to retire for the night. All of them gave Clint quick pecks on the cheek before heading to the elevator to head to their quarters.

"Stark, _do not_ do anything stupid," Maria spat at the billionaire before loaded onto an elevator heading for the lobby. "We still need our SHIELD agent after tonight."

"Oh shut up, Mrs. Fury. I'll take care of him," Tony spat.

Maria rolled her eyes at Tony but loaded onto the descending elevator. Once the doors shut, Pepper turned to Tony as she waited for her own elevator.

"Tony, she's serious. _I'm_ serious," Pepper said sternly. "Clint just got back from being held captive for three years. Take it easy on him." The strawberry blonde turned to the archer. "Sorry Clint, I know you're a grown up and can take care of yourself but Tony doesn't quite know when to stop sometimes."

Clint shook his head. "No offense taken, Ms. Potts."

Pepper nodded and then turned back to the elevators just as the doors were sliding open. Pepper, Jane, and Sharon all loaded onto the elevator and pressed the buttons for their respective floors. They bid the men goodnight and waved to them just before the elevator doors slid shut.

There was a split second of silence before Tony sprang from the couch and practically skipped to the bar.

"I thought they'd _never_ leave!" Tony whined as he ducked behind the bar and produced a bottle of whiskey. "Time to break out the good stuff."

* * *

Two hours and several cocktails later, the men of the Avengers were sprawled out around the living room of Clint Barton's apartment on the 16th floor. While Tony and Clint were heavily drunk, Steve was sprawled out on the couch, nursing a bottle of beer, while Thor was positioned behind the bar, pouring himself a concoction that neither the super soldier nor Clint and Tony could stomach.

Bruce was the only sober one, determined not the unleash The Other Guy.

"Oh come, just _one_ drink," Tony had whined at the scientist after he himself had had about three cocktails.

"Do you really want to unleash the Hulk?" Bruce inquired.

"Umm, _yeah_!" Tony spat.

Bruce had simply rolled his eyes at Tony and poured himself another glass of orange juice.

Now, their alcohol was dwindling and so was their energy. Clint hadn't had this much fun since well before his disappearance. Hell, the last time he had this much fun was probably shawarma after the Battle of New York.

"Oh Legolas," Tony sighed as he took a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle. "I'm so glad you're back. I missed getting drunk with you."

Clint groaned. "Stark, we got drunk together _once_ and I regretted it wholeheartedly."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Tony grumbled.

Clint shook his head but he merely grinned in response. As arrogant as Tony could be, Clint knew he had a heart. He cared about people because people actually cared about him. The Avengers had changed him for the better, even though the billionaire would beg to differ.

"So, Barton, did Natasha ever come see you?" Tony asked.

_Way to go for the jugular, Tin Can_, Clint thought.

Taking a long swig from his glass of bourbon, Clint sighed. "Yeah, she came to see me a few hours after you guys left the first night."

"So…did you guys, like, make out?"

"_Tony!_" Steve scolded.

"Hey, shut up! I'm drunk. I have an excuse," Tony shot back to the super soldier. He turned back to Clint to see the archer downing the rest of his bourbon. "Shit, Legolas, what the hell happened?"

Clint coughed, the strong liquid burning his throat. "She dumped me. That's what happened."

"What do you mean she dumped you?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know. I don't even know what the fuck happened. One moment, everything was fine. The next she was telling me I needed to move on." Clint shrugged his shoulders before getting up from the arm chair. "I need another drink," he grumbled.

As Clint poured himself another drink, the remaining Avengers glanced at one another silently. Of course Natasha had moved on and found someone else, but never did the Avengers expect her to pretty much dump Clint. They expected them to reconcile and try their hands at a friendship again, but apparently Natasha wasn't having any of it.

"W-well, did she say why?" Steve asked nervously.

Clint slammed the bottle of bourbon on the bar and then took a long swig from the glass. Wiping his mouth when he was finished, he looked at the super soldier with red rimmed eyes. "She said there was someone else."

Steve wanted to tell him. The poor man had been missing for three years and comes back to find out that his girlfriend had moved on to someone else. Not only had she moved on, but she wanted him to move on too.

"Whatever," Clint mumbled. "It's done. I guess she's right. Time to move on."

"No!" Tony squealed. "This can't happen! This is…wrong!"

"Tony, your inner fangirl is showing," Bruce deadpanned.

"Shut up," Tony snapped and then turned back to Clint. "You can't give up on her that easily. I mean, worm your way back in. Try to become partners again and then go from there." The billionaire grabbed Clint by the shoulders and shook him. "_You can't give up that easily!_"

Clint shoved the billionaire and stumbled towards the couch. "Fuck off, Tony. Even if I did try to get her back, I don't even know what kind of guy this boyfriend of hers is."

"I do," Steve piped up.

The Avengers turned to the super soldier. Tony and Bruce's eyes were wide with fear while Clint's were curious. As for Thor, he was still behind the bar, focusing on his cocktail and oblivious to his surroundings.

"Steve, I thought you told _me_ not to get involved and now you're going to come in between Natasha and her new guy?" Tony asked, finishing it off with a hiccup.

Ignoring Tony's comment, the super solider stepped forward. His eyes were hard and determined as he stared down the archer. He flopped down on the couch next to Clint with a sigh. He knew it was wrong to tell Clint this, but it was better than the archer finding out for himself. Besides, if Clint was going to find out about the guy Natasha moved on to, it was best to find out from Steve.

"It's Barnes," Steve said. "Bucky, that's who Natasha moved on to."

Clint's jaw dropped. Of all the people Natasha would move on to, it had to be the brainwashed assassin.

_What a match_, Clint thought glumly.

"She was with me in D.C. when we found him. I told you that, right?" The super soldier paused and garnered a terse nod from Clint before continuing. "Well, it turns out she knew him. He was involved with the Red Room somehow.

"It took her a while to warm up to him and I really want to know what he said to convince her to go on a stereotypical date with him. I haven't known Natasha long but from what little I know about her is that she doesn't agree to hang out with just anybody," the blonde soldier said.

"The guy's a dick!" Tony spat.

"Tony, shut the hell up," Bruce whined.

The billionaire stuck his tongue out at Bruce and then took another swig from his bottle of whiskey.

"Anyways," Steve continued. "I try to keep my distance. That's not my best friend anymore. Bucky died when he fell from that train. I don't know who that is that Natasha's dating."

Clint nodded and then took another swig of his bourbon. So far, the consensus was that no one liked Bucky. Steve had a past with him – albeit as a different person – and still didn't like him. Tony was being Tony. Thor wasn't even paying attention. As for Bruce, he was doing the gentlemanly thing and staying out of it.

As far as Clint could tell, no one knew a thing about Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier. If no one around Clint knew anything about him, why had Natasha been so quick to start dating him? Of course it took her a little time to warm up to him, but it had taken Clint _years_ to crack that shell of hers. Why had Barnes made it look so easy?

Suddenly, Clint shot upright and sat his glass on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Does anyone know _anything_ about Barnes?" he asked.

The Avengers looked at one another before silently shaking their heads.

"Can anyone get me any information on him?" Clint asked as he jumped up from the couch and headed towards the boxes they'd shoved in the corner of the living room at the beginning on the night.

Clint remembered he'd had a personal laptop that he'd used for surfing the net. It wasn't used for work. It wasn't even used for research related to missions. He just used it to read stupid articles on Yahoo or to shop for the occasional new winter coat. However, after this, he was going to have to destroy it when he was finished.

He found the laptop at the bottom of one of the boxes – still encased in its black sleeve – and pulled it out. When he turned back around, his teammates were staring at him in silence.

"Tony, get your ass in gear. You can hack SHIELD's files right?" Clint asked.

"Umm, yeah?" he said with a hiccup.

"Get moving then," Clint hissed as he crossed the room and plopped back down on the couch. He pulled his laptop out of its sleeve and flipped it open to power it up. The equipment buzzed to life and Clint drummed his fingers on his knee as he anxiously waited for the piece of technology to boot up.

"What exactly am I looking for?" Tony said as he stumbled back into the apartment after retrieving an iPad from an unknown location.

"Barnes, Tony," Clint sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Anything on this guy. SHIELD has to have some kind of file on him."

Tony tapped away on the device before the graphics projected themselves around the room in a three dimensional structure. Displayed in front of them were documents, pictures, and videos of Barnes' history. He'd assassinated important political figures in Europe, burned down an orphanage in rural China, and stolen priceless artifacts.

Clint rose from the couch and gaped at the materials in front of him. Leave it up to Natasha to go for the one person that is just as fucked up as she used to be.

_No_, Clint thought. _Natasha's way smarter than this guy. If he were to ever hurt her, she'd be one step ahead of him._

"Shit, Natasha," Clint hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I asked myself the same thing when she started dating the guy!" Tony squeaked. His hiccups were more frequent now, a sure indication that he was completely wasted. He strolled over to the end table he'd left his bottle of whiskey on and swiped it from the tabletop to take another long swig.

"Jesus Christ, marrying me would have been a better option, Tasha," Clint murmured to himself as he studied the materials floating in front of him.

The sound of shattering glass followed by a round of coughing caused Clint to jump and spin around. He found the glass of whiskey shattered into a million pieces on the floor while Tony was doubled over with a coughing fit.

"_You asked her to marry you!?_" Tony wheezed.

"Well, no, not exactly," Clint said with a shrug. "I had a ring. I was going to ask her when I came back, but I lost it. It was in the vest of my SHIELD uniform when I left for the mission. It's gone now."

Tony caught his breath and then stepped over the shattered bottle. He stumbled towards Clint, nearly colliding with the archer. Tony grabbed Clint by the shoulders and weakly shook him.

"Why would you wait until after you finished the mission? Maybe she would have waited for you if you'd proposed _before_ you left!" Tony whined.

Clint shoved Tony once again. That was the second time this evening Tony had grabbed him against his wishes. "I was going to propose afterwards because Natasha liked to have sex when I came home from missions. It seemed like a good idea to propose, hopefully get a yes, and then fuck her until neither of us could walk."

"Ugh! I didn't need to know that!" Tony whined as he backed away from Clint.

"Well you asked!"

Clint groaned and turned back to the graphics floating in mid-air. There was something suspicious about this whole situation. Natasha didn't just open up to anyone. It took Clint years to get her to really talk to him. It was an accomplishment he was rather proud of. But now, this Barnes guy comes in and immediately breaks down all her walls and has her heart? Nope, that just didn't fly with Clint Barton.

"What are you doing, Nat?" Clint muttered to himself, biting his lip as he thought deeply.

Clint studied the graphics for a few more minutes before ordering Tony to get rid of them. The billionaire was barely steady on his own two feet as he crossed the room and closed the SHIELD document, causing the graphics to disappear into thin air.

Clint flopped down onto the couch again and grabbed his forgotten glass of bourbon. He finished off the contents of his glass before slamming it back down on the coffee table.

The room was silent for several minutes as the Avengers started to sober up. The information Clint had been provided with was still swimming through his head. His thoughts were racing and nothing could pull him out of them except…

"I got it!" the God of Thunder boomed as he poured a small drop of whiskey into the glass he'd been studying all night. He grabbed the glass and walked around the bar to rejoin his teammates. He flopped down in the arm chair Clint had occupied earlier and then set his glass on the coffee table. "I believe I have duplicated the drink Asgardians traditionally consume during a celebration!"

"W-what's in that, Thor?" Bruce asked anxiously.

"Whiskey, bourbon, gin, brandy, vodka…" Thor continued, listing off all the types of alcohol on his fingers.

Bruce sighed and then pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. The God of Thunder was still listing all the alcohol included in the Asgardian celebratory drink when Bruce looked to the rest of his teammates.

"I swear to God he's going to accidentally kill us all one day."

* * *

***cue mysterious music* Natasha's with Barnes! There was serious team bonding. Clint revealed that he was going to propose Natasha after his mission because he wanted some seriously steamy sex. We met Sharon Carter. Pepper gave Tony 12% of the credit for the gathering (see what I did there?). So do you think Barnes is a good guy? Is what he has with Natasha real love like what Natasha has/had with Clint? If he isn't the good guy, do you think Natasha can see through his bullshit? Will we ever find out what else was in Thor's Asgardian celebratory drink? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding to this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Apologies once again for the delay in updates! I really hope you like this chapter. I feel like it's not very long but quite a bit of stuff happens. Enjoy!**

* * *

Clint woke up the next morning, draped across the couch in his living room with a headache that nearly split his head in half. With a groan, he pushed himself into an upright position and scanned the room. It was completely empty of any other life forms, but the room itself was a complete wreck. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. Chips were ground into the carpet. A dark puddle – of what Clint hoped was either alcohol or soda – stained the carpet by the bar.

Clint sighed and then pushed off of the couch. He dragged his feet down the hallway towards the bathroom to scrub the smell of liquor and shame off of his body. His ribs still ached like hell, but it didn't compare to the pounding in his head. It was like someone had taken a jackhammer to his skull.

The archer strolled into the bathroom attached to the master bedroom, flicking on the light as he passed through the doorway. The small room was flooded with golden light, revealing the usual bathroom necessities nestled within the small room.

Clint stripped himself bare and then turned the shower on full blast before stepping inside. The room quickly filled with steam as Clint scrubbed away the alcohol stench until his skin was bright red. He rinsed the suds off of his body and then shut off the water. He dried himself off with one of the fluffy towels on the shelf above the toilet and then padded back into the master bedroom.

Every floor in Avengers Tower – with the exception of Tony's floor – was generic with the same floor plan. Tony had provided the same exact furniture for each floor but the Avengers were allowed to do away with it if they so pleased.

Clint's master bedroom contained the same furniture he'd received when he'd moved into Avengers Tower many years ago. There was a king-sized bed situated up against the middle of the wall to the right of the door while a wall full of windows was directly opposite the door. On either side of the bed were two black bedside tables which were both equipped with lamps and alarm clocks. A black chest of drawers was situated against the wall right next to the bedroom door while a black basket-weaved hamper was situated to Clint's right, directly outside the bathroom door.

Clint glanced out the window – standing a good distance away – before walking to his boxed items in the corner of the room. He unfolded the flaps of the top box to reveal a box full of plain t-shirts of various colors. He pulled the top shirt out – a simple dark grey v-neck – before moving onto the next box.

Finally pulling the rest of his ensemble, he shook the wrinkles from his clothes before looking up to the ceiling.

"JARVIS, would you close the curtains please?" Clint asked.

"Certainly, Mr. Barton," the A.I. replied affirmatively. A faint buzzing noise emanated from the windows as a set of black curtains scrolled across the cityscape to shield Clint from wandering eyes in other skyscrapers.

As soon as the curtains were closed, the lights flicked on, flooding the dark room with light.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Clint said as he pulled the towel from his waist and slipped on his boxers.

"Of course, Mr. Barton," the A.I. answered. "And might I remind you that you have a meeting with Director Fury today at 2:00."

"Shit," the archer cussed. His jeans were hanging loosely around his hips, the fly and button still undone. "I forgot. What time is it now, JARVIS?"

"It is currently 12:46," the A.I. responded. "Director Fury said he would also send a car to take you to the SHIELD base around 1:30."

Clint sighed. "All right, thanks JARVIS."

Clint finished getting dressed and then ran his towel through his hair to dry it. He chucked the towel into the basket and then headed out to the kitchen. He paused at the end of the hallway and surveyed the mess in the living room before continuing to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

Before Clint had returned to Avengers Tower, Tony told him that he had stocked his apartment with food, bathroom necessities, and, of course, alcohol. However, Tony made it very clear from here on out, Clint had to do his own grocery shopping.

Remembering the conversation, Clint shook his head and started to search through the cabinets. He found a pack of Starbucks dark roast coffee and some coffee filters. He pulled them out of the cabinet and set up the coffee maker to brew.

Waiting for his coffee to finish, he padded back to the bathroom to search for some ibuprofen. The archer searched through the cabinet until he found an unopened bottle of the pain reliever. He shook one pill from the bottle and popped it into his mouth, dry swallowing it with effort.

Checking the alarm clock by his bed when he passed through the bedroom, he noticed he had a little under 20 minutes until the SHIELD car would arrive to pick him up. He hurried back to the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee. He sipped the hot liquid until his cup was empty before checking the time once again. He figured he didn't have enough time to finish the pot at the apartment, so he poured the rest into a travel mug and headed towards the elevators.

Absentmindedly sipping his coffee, he pressed the button to call an elevator to his floor and waited patiently. His headache was slowly dissipating, but at least it wasn't throbbing.

He took another sip of his coffee as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. He was about to step into the elevator when he looked up to find it already occupied.

"Sorry, I'll just take the next one," he mumbled, stepping back into the apartment.

"No, it's fine," Natasha said flatly, shaking her head.

Clint was hesitant to do so, but he stepped forward and let the elevator doors slide closed behind him. Putting as much space between him and his former flame, he leaned up against the opposite wall of the elevator, sipping his coffee absentmindedly.

Clint hadn't seen or talked to Natasha since that night she'd told him to move on. Ever since, Clint dreaded the moment he'd run into her. He didn't expect that moment to come so soon nor did he expect it to happen in an elevator, the one place he couldn't escape her.

The archer heard Natasha shift from one foot to the other before letting out a sigh. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but then again, he didn't exactly want to talk to her at the moment. But the female assassin wasn't going to let that happen.

Clearly her throat loudly, Natasha spoke up. "So, umm, h-how have you been?" she asked nervously.

Clint was taken aback, confused and shocked that she'd addressed him. He turned to face her to find that she was still staring straight ahead.

"Umm, good, I guess?" Clint answered, unsure of what to say. Did she actually care or was she just making small talk to make this elevator ride less awkward?

"I, umm, I'm sorry I didn't come to the homecoming party last night," she said softly. "It didn't seem right."

"Oh, sure, it didn't seem right," Clint mocked.

The red head sighed. "Look, I'm sorry about the way I treated you that night," she said. "It wasn't fair, but I'm really confused."

"Are you?" the archer drawled, pushing away from the wall of the elevator. He strolled up to Natasha, the red head barely twitching to look at the archer. "Are you actually confused? Or is Barnes just putting ideas into your head?"

That's what made her head snap to the side, her wide, shocked eyes meeting Clint's tired, envious ones. Her mouth opened, but silence only escaped. The archer smirked, pleased with what he'd said. He would get to the bottom of this; he would find out why his Natasha wasn't his anymore.

Suddenly, the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal the golden tinged lobby. Smirking at the female assassin, Clint strolled out of the elevator with his head held high, leaving a befuddled and confused red-headed assassin standing by herself.

* * *

Clint had to admit the last place he wanted to be was at the SHIELD base if they didn't have a mission for him. To be completely honest, he would rather sit on his ass and eat potato chips all day than spend time on the SHIELD base without a purpose. But alas, here he was, sitting in the empty conference room as he waited for Director Fury and Maria Hill join him.

According to Fury, he wasn't in trouble, but Clint still worried he was going to get a scolding. If he was lucky, maybe he'd get a slap on the wrist. His capture hadn't been his fault, but he still couldn't help but feel like Fury was incredibly disappointed in him. He wouldn't be able to live this down.

After a few more minutes of mulling over what was to come, Fury and Maria waltzed into the conference room. Fury was wearing his usual all black ensemble with the trailing black leather trench coat. Maria was in her usual skin tight SHIELD bodysuit. Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail and her demeanor was unreadable.

The duo sat down at the table – Fury at the head, Maria across from Clint – and quietly passed one another manila folders. Once they were situated, they turned their attention to Clint, who was already nervous as hell. He swallowed nervously as their eyes focused on him entirely.

"So, Barton, you're probably wondering why you're here," Fury began. Once he saw Clint's demeanor, he got right to it. "It's nothing bad. We just called this meeting to get you back into the SHIELD database and talk about a set date for your psychological evaluation."

Clint released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "That's it?" he questioned.

"We want to work out a tentative return date to the field too," Maria added. "But that will only become official once you pass the psych evaluation."

He wasn't in trouble. Clint was relieved. The meeting wasn't over yet, so he could still get yelled at, but he was in the clear. He still had a job.

"First off, we're going to need you to fill out some paperwork," Fury said as he flipped open one of the manila folders and slid it across the table to Clint. He retrieved a pen from his trench coat and clicked the pen. Setting the pen next to the folder, he started pointing to the various empty spots Clint had to fill out. "Shouldn't take you long," Fury said nonchalantly.

With a sigh, Clint started to fill out the form. The information started to become a blur as he got further down the form. The medical history was a pain in the ass to fill out, seeing as he'd been in the SHIELD infirmary one too many times from gunshot wounds, stabbings, and punctured lungs. When he was finished, he provided his signature, then closed the folder and slid it across the table back to Fury.

"Excellent," SHIELD's director deadpanned. "Now, we wanted to let you know we're working on trying to retrieve your gear."

Clint's heart soared. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his beloved bow. It had been taken from him the day he'd been captured but he was positive he'd seen it after that. Who knows how long it had been since then.

"We've already got a team suiting up to head out to the various abandoned HYDRA bases," Maria chimed in. "One team already searched through the rubble in Tehran and found nothing. We're thinking they might have it stashed elsewhere."

Clint nodded excitedly. "Thank you."

"That's prized SHIELD technology, Barton. We're not going to let them keep it," Fury said.

And there it was. Even though Fury wasn't exactly pinning the blame on Clint, it was almost implied that it was his fault he'd lost SHIELD's technology.

"Well, anyways, that team's heading out within the hour so we'll know within the next 24 hours if they've found anything at the first base," Maria said.

"Well said, Agent Hill," Fury praised. "Now, onto the psych evaluation."

Clint couldn't help but groan. He had already been through this conversation with Bruce, so he didn't want to go through it again. He had been fine with the date that was set roughly two weeks from now, so he didn't understand why they had to talk about it again.

"We're going to give you more time to recover," Maria said. "Physically and mentally."

Clint breathed a sigh of relief. They were pushing back the psych evaluation. Even though that meant it could be longer until he was back in the field, at least he didn't have to deal with the crazy psychologists who judged every little thing you said.

"Only one extra week, Barton," Fury boomed. "So don't get too comfortable."

Clint frowned, but realized an extra week wasn't so bad.

"So, we'll tentatively schedule your return to the field four weeks from now," Maria amended as she scribbled on a piece of paper. "If your psych evaluation doesn't check out, Barton, you can bet we'll push that back."

Clint nodded fervently. "Got it, Agent Hill."

Maria nodded and then Clint turned his attention back to Fury, who still had his stoic demeanor plastered across his face.

"Until then, you can have full access to the SHIELD base, however, that won't happen until we can get you back into the database. But that shouldn't take long," Fury stated. "When we get your information back into the system, we'll have Agent Carter deliver your new ID badge and swipe card."

"Thank you, sir," Clint said with a nod.

Director Fury nodded and then gathered up all of the folders. He neatly straightened them before standing from his chair, tucking the folders under his arm. Maria followed suit and then sidled up next to Fury.

"We'll get to work on getting you back into the database. You should be back in by tomorrow," Fury announced.

"Thank you, sir," Clint reiterated.

The director nodded. "You can remain on base for the rest of the day. A car will be waiting to take you back to Avengers Tower when you're ready."

Clint nodded. Fury and Maria exited the room without another word, the door echoing eerily throughout the room when it banged shut. Clint remained in the conference room for several minutes, mulling over what just happened. He wasn't in trouble. He still had his job. Unfortunately, he still had to have the psych evaluation done but he could pass that with flying colors in his sleep.

Clint grinned to himself as he rose from his chair and headed out of the room. Everything was going back to normal. Well, not exactly everything, but it was almost as if he hadn't been captured. With the exception of Natasha, everything was falling back into place.

Pushing open the door to the conference room, Clint walked out into the hallway, only to immediately collide with someone. Normally Clint's reflexes would have kicked in and he would have dodged the person. But his mind had been so full of thoughts that he was too distracted to notice the person barreling down the hall.

"Watch where you're going," the voice growled angrily.

"Jesus, it's not my - ." The rest of Clint's sentence got caught in his throat when he noticed the person standing in front of him. Dressed in all black with chin length brown hair was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Just like his encounter with Natasha, Clint hadn't expected to run into Barnes this soon. The assassin was decked out in all black tactical gear, clearly ready to go on a mission. His face was weary and ragged while his eyes were dark and tired.

Barnes was the first to speak. "Oh wow, Barton, nice to see you on base."

"O-oh, umm, yeah," Clint stuttered.

"Sorry," Barnes said as he thwacked himself on the forehead with the heel of his palm. "Bucky Barnes." The assassin held out his hand and Clint eyed it suspiciously. Not wanting to cause a scene, Clint reached out and firmly grasped Barnes' hand.

"Pleasure," Clint replied flatly as they pumped their hands up and down in a firm handshake.

Clint knew something wasn't right here. The man had been brainwashed for Christ's sake. There was no way he should be so friendly to him. Yet, here he was, offering a handshake and politely introducing himself.

"I'd stay and chat but I'm headed out on a mission," Barnes said as he thrust his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm actually on the team that's going out to recover your gear."

_Well isn't that a coincidence_, Clint thought icily.

"Anyways, yes, I've got to go, but maybe I'll see you around on base when you're cleared for the field again," Barnes wondered as he started to back up.

"Yeah, that would be great," Clint said flatly.

"Great!" Barnes exclaimed as he turned around and started to jog down the hall. "See you around, Barton!" he tossed over his shoulder.

Clint watched as the brainwashed assassin disappeared down the hall. The archer was wary that something was up. There was no way the brainwashed assassin was going to be friendly to him. Hell, it had taken Natasha years to actually warm up to Clint. There was no way – after a quick encounter – that Bucky Barnes was going to be friendly to Clint Barton.

Something was definitely up and Clint was going to find out.

* * *

**So, Clint's (almost) back in the game. He's pretty much in a war of words with Natasha. Bucky's acting suspicious (at least, to Clint he is) and he's also on the team going out to recover Clint's gear. Think he's acting suspicious? Or has the Winter Soldier been turned off and it's just Bucky now? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Apologies once again for the delay! I've been working and I'm also writing for a blog on green technology in the Middle East. I have to write 3 articles a week so it takes away from my fanfiction writing. But I hope you guys aren't mad at me for taking so long to update! Besides, you shouldn't be because the next chapter is right here! I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

"_We've got to sedate him."_

"_He can't see where we're going."_

"_He'll see us."_

"_Don't worry about him. He looks like he's on his way out."_

_They were whispering. They were whispering about him. He was almost sure of it. He couldn't see them. HYDRA had made sure to shroud their faces in darkness or wear masks when they were in his presence. They were clever to make sure Clint never looked his captors in the face._

_Darkness surrounded him. A cold, dank dungeon was a good way to describe his living conditions. The chains around his arms and feet limited his mobility. But it's not like he had the energy to go anywhere. He was too tired to even breathe. Maybe he was on his way out like they said._

_He thought they'd left when a bag was shoved on his head, completely cutting off his sight. However, he wasn't freed from his chains. He waited for it to come. Clearly they were going somewhere, so why weren't they unchaining him? He was too exhausted to fight back anyways. They could unchain him and he wouldn't put up a struggle. Swear on his life he wouldn't do it._

_Suddenly, a cold blast of water hit him square in the chest, pushing all of the air out of his body. Just as he was about to gulp down a mouthful of air, he got a mouthful of water instead. He struggled to resist but the water continued to pummel him in the face._

_He struggled to breathe as the water slid down his throat and invaded his lungs. They were going to kill him. This was the end for sure. But then the water stopped. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, a round of entertained cackling filled his eardrums, sending shivers down his spine._

Clint shot up in bed, terrified by the nightmare that had plagued him. His bare torso was drenched in sweat, as were the bed sheets. His heart rate was quick, rapid, and his breathing was uneven. His eyes darted wildly around the dark room, looking for any possible intruders. But Clint knew better. He was alone and the only perpetrator for his sudden awakening was HYDRA.

"JARVIS, lights please," Clint asked as he whipped the soaked covers off of his body.

"Certainly, Mr. Barton," JARVIS responded. The lights turned on slowly, only flooding the room with the right amount so that it didn't harm Clint's sensitive, sleep laden eyes.

The archer was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees while his head was cradled in his hands. His breathing was even and steady but his heart rate was still racing.

"Get a grip, Barton," Clint muttered to himself as he took a deep breath.

Clint sat hunched over the edge of the bed, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. It had been a week since he'd returned to Avengers Tower to begin readjusting to life. For the past couple of nights, he slept soundly. Nightmares hadn't plagued him. He didn't wake up in cold sweats. He didn't feel like someone was watching him. Instead, he stayed asleep from the time his head hit the pillow to the time his alarm went off at six in the morning the next day.

Clint had returned to his old routine after his meeting with Fury and Maria at the SHIELD base. He needed to get back to a normal routine for the sake of his mental state. If he just acted like nothing happened, then his psych evaluation would be a breeze. But of course this had to go and happen. _Of course_ this would happen.

Clint released a sigh and then turned to glance at his alarm clock on the bedside table. It was only three in the morning; he still had three more hours until his alarm went off. But there was no chance of him falling back asleep, not after a nightmare as vivid and real as the one he just experienced.

The archer pushed off of the bed – reaching out to turn off the alarm for six – before padding across the room to grab a change of clothes. The sweat had dried so now he felt clammy and dirty, but he knew taking a shower now would serve no purpose, especially since he was going to head to the gym anyways. He quickly pulled on an old t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. Then he pulled on a pair of socks and laced up his sneakers. After about five minutes, he was out of the bedroom and heading to the gym downstairs.

During the elevator ride, Clint couldn't seem to shake the nightmare. That had been one of his clearer memories from captivity. Other times, he had been so drugged out of his mind that he could barely remember his own name. At the thought of this, he wasn't quite sure which was more horrifying.

Lost in thought, the archer barely noticed when he'd reached the floor for the gym. He'd almost missed it, shaking the thoughts from his mind when he noticed the elevator doors shutting. He waved a hand in between them before they shut and then slipped through before they'd even opened again.

Walking into the gym at Avengers Tower was just the way Clint remembered it. The smell of sweat and sterility assaulted his nostrils simultaneously. The low hum of the central air kept the air circulating while several flat screen TVs droned on and on with their respective programs at a low volume.

The Avengers Tower gym was equipped with everything an Avenger would need for a successful workout. Elliptical, treadmills, and stationary bikes were lined up on one side of the gym while the other was home to various muscle building exercise equipment. At the far end of the gym was a boxing ring for sparring while there were several punching bags hanging from the ceiling if one wanted to work solo. In the corner, there was a stack of blue mats for yoga and Pilates exercises, and a pile of medicine balls were situated in a basket next to the mats.

The gym was calm and quiet, but then again, it was three in the morning. Clint was one of the very few people that lived in Avengers Tower who used the gym this early in the morning. Crossing the room, he approached a treadmill and stepped onto it. Typically he would head to the shooting range on the floor below, but since his bow was still missing, that wasn't an option. Going for a run was the next best thing to clear his head.

The archer adjusted the settings before pressing the start button. The treadmill started at a slow pace, but Clint adjusted the speed so that he was at a steady pace. Soon he was running at a 6.0 speed at a 2.0 incline. He kept his eyes trained forward, watching the flat screen TV that was showing a rerun of _Saturday Night Live_. The volume was low so Clint couldn't hear anything the comedians were saying, but every time someone was hurt in the name of comedy, the archer couldn't help but let out a loud guffaw.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Clint faltered in his step, gripping the handrails on the side of the treadmill to steady himself. He jumped from the treadmill and set his feet on either side of the track. He caught his breath before snapping his head to the side to address his companion.

Standing just inside the doorway was Natasha. Her vibrant red hair was pulled up into a chignon while her green eyes sparkled despite the fatigue that weighed them down. She was dressed in a black sports bra that showed off the soft skin of her toned stomach and a pair of black running leggings. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was eyeing Clint curiously, as if she actually cared whether he couldn't sleep or not.

The archer caught his breath, bowing his head and taking a deep breath, before turning off the treadmill. The whir of the machine ceased and plunged the gym into an eerie silence. Wiping the sweat from his brow with his t-shirt, he turned back to Natasha, who was still standing in the same spot. "Nope," he said in response to her question. "You?"

"No, as usual," she said flatly. She uncrossed her arms and walked across the room to claim an elliptical a few feet down from Clint. She placed her feet on the pedals and popped in her earphones to drown out the silence.

And that was it, just a simple exchange. Clint didn't know what to think anymore. Sometimes she seemed like she cared. Sometimes she seemed like she didn't.

Fed up with her attitude towards him, Clint jumped off of the treadmill and marched over to Natasha. He reached in front of her and pressed a button to pause her exercise. The red head whipped her head to the side as the machine ceased it movements, glaring at the archer.

"What the fuck?" she snapped, ripping the earphones from her ears.

"Was it that time of the month when you talked to me that night? Or are you just naturally bi-polar?" Clint asked. Before his captivity, even if he hadn't been dating her, he would've never asked Natasha those questions for fear of getting his balls ripped off. But who cared? She already ripped them off and handed them to him the night at the hospital. What else could she do to him?

"What did you say, Barton?" she hissed.

"Oh nothing," he said nonchalantly. "I'm just wondering why you're curious about how I am one second and then the next, you don't give a flying fuck."

"I'm trying to be polite," Natasha stated.

"Well don't," Clint snapped. "You want us to move on, that's fine. But if you want to be friendly to one another, that's a whole other story. You don't just rip a guy's heart out and then mind fuck him the next time you see him."

He knew this was how Natasha was during her time in the Red Room. She played mind games with her targets so she could get the best possible outcome. But as far as Clint knew, he wasn't her target. The closest thing he figured they were to one another was allies; co-workers was too intimate of a term.

"Are you done?" she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I could go on for days," he said dryly. "But since I seem to be boring you, yeah, I'm done."

With that, the archer turned on his heels and marched out of the gym without so much as another glance over his shoulder at the red headed assassin.

* * *

Clint thought that doing research on Barnes would make him even angrier when in fact, it made him feel better.

Following his altercation in the gym with Natasha, Clint returned to his apartment on the 16th floor. It was barely four o'clock in the morning and falling back asleep was not an option. Not only did he not want to face the nightmares that were bound to plague him, but he was too fired up from his argument with the female assassin. So Clint did the next best thing: conduct more research on Barnes.

As far as Clint knew, the assassin was still out on SHIELD's orders, searching for Clint's gear. Every check-in brought bad news. Well, at least for Clint it was bad news. Every location they searched, there was no luck in finding his gear so they would move on to the next one.

Since his encounter with Natasha at the gym, Clint was hunched over his personal laptop, searching detail after detail on Barnes. Most of the information was the same and repetitive, leaving Clint to rub his eyes in irritation.

Around eight o'clock, he put a pot of coffee on the burner and nibbled on a granola bar as he continued to search through the SHIELD database. Clint had hoped to find some dirt on the assassin but once he surrendered and started working for SHIELD, there was not a bad detail about him. He had a successful track record, succeeding in all of his missions and even successfully training recruits as well. He was more than willing to volunteer for missions other agents had passed up and he had even fought alongside some of the Avengers. The guy was like a saint. There was nothing bad about him since he joined SHIELD.

After a few minutes, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He prepared it to his liking – two tablespoons of cream and a dash of sugar – before returning to the living room to slave over his research. There was a lot of information about Barnes' current position at SHIELD so maybe, Clint supposed, he had to look at his time before coming to SHIELD. When he was brought in, how he was brought in, and why.

Clint typed away furiously on the keyboard, searching the database for the mission on the encounter with Barnes in D.C. After several minutes of searching, he found the file but groaned at the sight of the file size. The mission briefing was 27 pages long. There were 378 archival photos. The mission debrief was 66 pages long. Clint took another sip of his coffee, rubbed his eyes, and then double clicked the file.

The archer had never seen a mission file this big, except for the one corresponding to the Battle of New York. That had been one hell of a mission debrief. But for a simple mission such as this one, there should not have been a file as big as this. However, it was, and from what Clint could tell, the mission had been far from simple.

Tracking down Barnes, or better known as the Winter Soldier, had not been an easy feat. It had been like a cat and mouse game. Eventually, a confrontation between Steve, Natasha, and Barnes led to a firefight in the middle of D.C. After nearly decimating the downtown area, Barnes surrendered and so began the interrogation period.

After a while, Clint's eyes had grown tired of reading every single detail so he had begun to skim for the important facts. But even after Barnes had surrendered, nothing really jumped out at Clint as important. The interrogation had been one-sided with Steve and Natasha asking the questions and receiving nothing but a glare from Barnes.

Bored with the documents on the mission, Clint exited out of the documents file and opened the archival photos. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. The photos were basically a photographic documentation of what he had just read. But he needed something a little light to look at after sifting through all of the mission details.

He was about halfway through the photos when a bright glint in one of the photos caught his eye. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment as he searched the photo for the source. Strangely, the glint was reflecting off of Natasha. The archer flipped through the photos so that he could get a better look at his former partner. Luckily, he found a photo that was just her in the frame and Clint zoomed in to get a better look. What he found, he wasn't expecting.

Dripping from around her neck, the thin silver chain with the simple charm was all too familiar to the archer. After all, he was the one who bought the red head the arrow necklace. Natasha was never a jewelry person, but Clint had bought her the necklace as a gag gift. It was a cheap thing he found in a jewelry store down in SoHo and he just couldn't pass it up. When he returned back to Avengers Tower, he'd simply set the box in front of her and then turned away to pour himself a glass of orange juice. When he'd turned back around, the red head had taken the necklace out of its velvet box and was holding it out for Clint, as if to tell him to put it on her.

The archer had been shocked. He never expected Natasha to accept the gift. Hell, he expected her to shove it down the garbage disposal and let it be shredded into a thousand tiny pieces. But no, of course she had to surprise him. So he had set down his glass of orange juice, swept her hair to the side, and clasped the necklace around her neck.

She didn't wear it much after that. In fact, she didn't wear it at all. But it seemed that his absence had stirred some sort of inspiration in her to dig it out and wear it again. However, it wasn't Natasha's style to wear jewelry on a mission unless it was necessary, so Clint was curious as to why she had worn it on this particular one. Did she want to make a point to Barnes that she was taken? Did Fury tell her to wear it? What was the point of wearing this simple piece of jewelry on this particular mission?

Intrigued, Clint exited completely out of the Winter Soldier mission file and clicked on the next one. It had been a mission to take down a dictator that ruled over child soldiers in Uganda and Natasha had gone solo. But as usual, there were archival photos. To Clint's surprise, the necklace was still around her neck. He exited out of the Uganda file and clicked on the next one. He searched through the archival photos to find a clear picture of Natasha. Once again, the necklace was there.

Mission file after mission file, the necklace was always there, clear as day. It wasn't until Clint clicked on the most recent file did he realize exactly what he had opened. It was the mission Steve and Tony had been assigned to take down a HYDRA base, which eventually turned into Clint's rescue mission. He'd never actually seen the mission details on his rescue, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. But he clicked on the archival photos anyways, searching for any pictures of Natasha. She hadn't been on the mission, but she had been on base when Clint returned. There had to be some sort of photo of her during his arrival.

Clicking through the photos, he was about to give up. Most of the photos were of Clint, Steve, Tony, and the destroyed HYDRA base. But as he neared the end of the photos, some of the background looked like the familiar SHIELD base. It wasn't until that familiar silver glint caught his eye did he realize the red headed assassin had been wearing the necklace.

"You bitch, Natasha Romanoff," Clint muttered as he shook his head.

Clint took another sip of his coffee and began to untangle the web of lies the Black Widow had woven.

* * *

**Oh what a tangled web the Black Widow weaves indeed. If you've seen pics from the set of Captain America 2, Scarlett Johansson has been photographed wearing an arrow necklace, which (possibly) means CLINTASHA FTW! I wrote a one-shot on the arrow necklace called She Will Be Loved but I felt like the necklace deserved a part in this story as well. So what's going on with Natasha? What's with the necklace ordeal? Is Barnes really the goody-two-shoes SHIELD makes him out to be? Will Clint be plagued by more nightmares from his time in captivity? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**

**P.S. Those of you that read Born To Die and expressed interest in my next Jem fic from when he is a teenager, it has been posted. No one has reviewed and if no one does, I'm going to take it down. That's the only way I know you're interested. Dead serious when I say there's no pressure and I'm really not trying to guilt anyone into it, but seriously, what's the point of writing it if no one's interested? Anyways, it's called Dark Paradise. Check it out if you'd like!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! I have the next chapter here for you. I think you'll like this. Tony decides to meddle and it goes horribly wrong. Enjoy!**

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Clint knew what Tony was doing. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Following their drunken escapades the night of Clint's return to Avengers Tower, Tony had expressed interested in hosting a team dinner for all of the Avengers. But ever since Clint had admitted he'd had a ring for Natasha before he left for that mission all those years ago, Clint knew Tony was going to have something up his sleeve.

It was a couple days after Clint's encounter with Natasha in the gym when Tony had dropped by unexpectedly. Clint was in the kitchen in just his boxers. He'd been up since three, plagued by another nightmare and unable to fall back asleep. The billionaire strolled in at eight o'clock on the dot in a perfectly pressed navy suit and expensive shades. At first, Clint didn't acknowledge his presence. He hoped that maybe if he ignored him, he'd go away. But that just didn't work with Tony Stark because Tony Stark got his way no matter what.

"Legolas! Dinner in the penthouse tonight with the team, seven o'clock sharp," Tony announced as he strolled into the kitchen.

Clint sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Tony, your plan's not going to work."

"What plan? We can't have a team dinner?" the billionaire wondered innocently.

The archer turned around with his coffee in hand. "Natasha and I hate each other. I'm pretty sure we'll be at each other's throats within five seconds."

Tony gasped, but then quickly composed himself. "Well, that's what this dinner's for, team bonding."

Clint rolled his eyes and then grabbed the milk from the fridge to pour into his coffee. "Whatever. Seven o'clock, right?"

Tony grinned like the Cheshire Cat from _Alice in Wonderland_, then turned on his heel to head back to the elevators. "Don't be late, Katniss. We're getting catering from an Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village so it's going to be good."

Clint sighed, hanging his head in defeat. Saying no to Tony Stark was like telling a child they couldn't have candy before dinner.

"Seven o'clock, Barton. Don't be late! I mean it!" Tony called over his shoulder as he stepped onto the elevator.

Clint didn't respond. He simply sipped his coffee and waited for the elevator doors to slide shut before he traipsed into the living room to loaf in front of the TV.

He spent the rest of his day keeping himself occupied with pointless tasks. He didn't want the dinner to be on his mind. The fact that he'd have to spend an extended amount of time in the same room as Natasha had him on edge. They weren't exactly on speaking terms. And when they did speak to one another, it usually ended with a glaring contest. To say he wasn't looking forward to this dinner was an understatement.

Clint spent the better part of his day conducting more research on Barnes. Clint was determined to find some kind of dirt on the guy but there was nothing. Something was wrong about him and Clint was going to find out what.

Around three o'clock, Fury called to give Clint an update on the recovery mission for his gear. Of course, no good news came out of this phone call. The team wasn't going to return until they'd found _something_ to bring back, so at least Barnes would be away a little longer. But the disappointment Clint felt after every phone call was undoubtedly the worst.

About an hour before he was due upstairs for dinner, Clint padded down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower. He turned on the shower, stripped, and then climbed underneath the hot spray. He scrubbed himself clean, washing away the dried sweat and sticky skin he'd woken up to from his nightmare early in the morning.

When he felt clean, he turned off the shower and stepped out to dry off. He rubbed the fluffy towel over his body, secured it around his waist, and then stepped into his bedroom. As he crossed the room to his dresser, he politely asked that JARVIS close the blinds and the A.I. responded affirmatively. The room was plunged into darkness for a split second before the lights glowed to life.

Digging around his dresser, Clint couldn't figure out the first thing to wear. It wasn't that he didn't have the appropriate attire. Working for SHIELD meant that he had a wardrobe for any occasion. Clint just didn't know what would be appropriate attire. He wasn't sure if it was a casual dinner or not. Then again, he wasn't quite sure why he was over thinking this. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slipping them on and then running the towel through his wet hair. Padding back across the room, he chucked his towel in the laundry basket before stepping back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

By the time the archer was finished, it was 6:45. The last thing he wanted was to be early, but he would surely go insane if he stayed in his apartment any longer. With a sigh, Clint slipped into his sneakers before dragging his feet across the floor to the elevators. He pressed the button to call the elevator and within seconds, it had arrived on his floor. Lost in his thoughts, the doors slid open and Clint stepped forward, not taking notice of his companion. It wasn't until the doors slid shut did he realize he wanted to get right back off.

Standing on the other side of the elevator was Natasha. Wearing a skin-tight black dress with a leather jacket and black opaque tights, it got Clint's heart racing. They may be at odds right now but good Lord, that woman still knew how to get him worked up in all the right ways. She was wearing a pair of shoes that had a heel that was at least four inches. Even through the tights, he could see the musculature of her calves and thigh. Her red hair was vibrant as ever, curled to the point that it was just brushing her shoulders. Her lips were full and soft while her eyes were matted down with dark makeup.

The archer didn't realize he was staring until the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Standing on the other side were Steve and Sharon, awaiting the elevator as well.

"Hey guys!" Steve greeted as he stepped onto the elevator, graciously leading the way for Sharon."

"Hey Steve, Sharon," Clint mumbled while Natasha simply nodded. Clint couldn't help but roll his eyes at her rudeness.

The elevator doors slid shut and continued its ascent to the penthouse. The four of them rode in silence, watching the red numbers increase as the elevator continued upwards. When they reached the penthouse, the elevator came to an abrupt stop before opening its doors to reveal the lavish penthouse of Avengers Tower.

Steve and Sharon were the first to step out of the elevator. Steve, being the gentleman that he is, gestured for Sharon to go first before following right behind her. Without so much as a look in Clint's direction, Natasha stepped forward to exit the elevator. With a sigh, Clint followed just before the elevator doors closed.

"Oh, hello!" Clint heard Pepper exclaim. The strawberry blonde was in the kitchen, holding a glass of dark red wine. She was still dressed in business attire, most likely from her day at Stark Industries, but it seemed appropriate enough for the dinner anyways.

"We're going to be eating in the dining room," Pepper announced, pointing to the other side of the penthouse. "Bruce and Rhodey are already here. Make yourselves at home."

"Thank you, Ms. Potts," Steve announced, taking Sharon by the hand and leading the way.

"It's Pepper, Steve. You know that!" Pepper said with a smile.

Keeping a good distance from Natasha, Clint followed the trio into the dining room. Seated at the table in an intense conversation were Bruce and James Rhodes. Clint had briefly met James Rhodes following the Battle of New York. When Tony had invited all of the Avengers to live at the newly dubbed Avengers Tower, Rhodes was there to welcome them.

When Rhodes noticed Clint approaching the table out of the corner of his eye, he immediately cut off his conversation with Bruce and stood to greet the archer.

"Agent Barton," he greeted, extending his hand for a shake. Clint firmly gripped the man's hand. "It's good to see you back."

"Thanks Rhodes," Clint said. "It's good to be back."

"You know…" Rhodes said, dropping his voice to a low volume and placing a comforting hand on Clint's shoulder. "If Tony gives you any trouble, tell me. I'll set him straight."

Clint couldn't help but snort a laugh while Rhodes kept a straight face. "I'm serious, Barton," Rhodes said. "What you went through is traumatic. Tony went through the same thing but you know how he makes light of these situations. If he's acting like a child, let myself or Pepper know."

Clint nodded. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Rhodes."

Rhodes nodded, clapping him on the shoulder before returning to his conversation with Bruce. With a sigh, Clint took a seat at the table next to Steve. He made sure he was as far away from Natasha as possible, but not isolated enough so that it didn't make him stick out like a sore thumb.

From outside, the sky lit up like the Fourth of July and the Avengers knew that could only mean one thing: Thor had arrived. It was less than a minute later when the Asgardian God marched into the dining room with Jane Foster in tow.

"My friends!" Thor boomed. "How wonderful to see you all!"

They'd only seen each other a few days ago, but Thor was Thor. He was excited to see his teammates whether it had been days ago or hours ago.

Poking his head out from behind Thor, Tony took note of everyone in the dining room before stepping out from behind the God. "Hey, take your seat, Shakespeare," Tony said, clapping a hand on the god's shoulder. "The food's ready."

Thor led Jane to the table, pulling out a chair next to Rhodes for her and then pushing her in. He fell into a seat next to Jane just as the catering staff was bringing in the appetizer. They set small dishes of bruschetta in front of each dinner guest before retreating from the room to let them enjoy their food.

The group enjoyed the bruschetta and made small talk as they slowly began to finish up. As they finished their first course, catering staff appeared behind them to remove the dishes from the table. In the few minutes between the appetizer and the main entrée, Clint couldn't help but let his eyes wander down to Natasha. She was engaged in an animated conversation with Pepper but Clint couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Sure they'd been at each other's throats since he'd come back, but after seeing her dressed up tonight, he'd forgotten how much he'd been attracted to her.

Of course Clint Barton had loved Natasha Romanoff for reasons other than her looks, but he'd been so hung up on her attitude that it took away from her physical features. Those full and soft lips that he would kiss goodnight and good morning when they fell asleep in his bed were still as rosy red as they were before he'd left. He wished he could run his finger through her red curls like he did when they laid in bed together, tangled in each other's limbs. And the legs that have killed thousands of men _and_ women! He missed running his calloused hands up and down the smooth planes of her calves and thighs to the point that it sent her over the edge.

It didn't matter that Natasha Romanoff was being a complete and utter bitch to him. It didn't matter that she was with someone else and didn't want him. Clint knew the real Natasha and he knew she was still in there somewhere. She had to be.

Clint was roused from his thoughts when a plate of pasta with a creamy pesto sauce was placed in front of him. Clint had to admit that this dinner wasn't so bad in terms food quality. So long as the interaction between him and Natasha could be kept to a minimum, he'd deem this dinner a success.

The group finished their entrées, scraping forks against the fine china – or in Thor's case, practically licking the plate clean. The catering staff, once again, returned to the room to whisk the empty plates away. Graciously, they also refilled everyone's wine and offered post-dinner coffee. With the exception of Thor, everyone declined the coffee. With that, the catering staff rushed off to prepare dessert.

"So, Barton, no news on the SHIELD gear?" Tony asked, in an attempt to make post-dinner conversation.

Solemnly, Clint shook his head. "No, they haven't found it. They were in Jakarta today," he sighed. "It's weird. All of these places they've been looking, some of them I'd never been to in all the time I've worked for SHIELD. Jakarta, Kinshasa, Pyongyang, I've never been to any of those places."

"You've been to Pyongyang."

Clint stiffened at the sound of her sultry voice. His head snapped in her direction to find Natasha staring at her hands folded in her lap. It was the first time she'd directly acknowledged him that didn't involve spitting nasty words at him. By this time, all eyes were on them, awaiting some sort of response from the archer.

Clearing his throat, he said, "I-I don't remember being in Pyongyang."

"That's because you were unconscious the whole time," she said, not taking her eyes off of her lap.

Clint racked his brain, trying to remember a mission that could have led to him being unconscious for an extended amount of time.

"Oh wait, was that the Shenyang mission?" Clint asked, snapping his fingers in remembrance.

Natasha's head snapped up. Her face didn't show any excitement, but Clint could see it in her eyes. The red head nodded. "Yeah, that one."

But then Clint cocked his head to the side, remembering one more detail. "But I woke up on base."

Natasha sighed. "You got hit with a strong sedative that knocked you out, remember? We were in Pyongyang for about 14 hours in a covert SHIELD hospital until you were transferred."

Clint shook his head then let out a throaty chuckle. "That shouldn't count since I don't remember it."

"Physically you were there, so it counts," Natasha countered with a shrug.

Clint still didn't think it counted, but who was he to argue with Natasha? The exchange actually went smoothly. She didn't get angry with him. She didn't hurl nasty slurs at him. He didn't do the same to her either. For Clint, it felt like a step in the right direction for them.

"All right!" Tony exclaimed excitedly. "Blackhawk is making a comeback!"

"Shut up, Tony!" Natasha and Clint spat simultaneously.

"Robin Hood, I think you've been lying all this time. You and Spidey are getting along just fine. Look, you guys even glare at me the same way that you used to," Tony said with a nervous chuckle.

Even with the back of her head facing him, Clint could practically see Natasha rolling her eyes at the billionaire. It took all of the energy in Clint's body not to snort a laugh. After all these years, Clint still knew Natasha so well.

That's when Clint realized that his Natasha had been here all along. Why he didn't notice it, he had no clue. The hostile Natasha he'd seen for the past week or so was the Natasha he brought into SHIELD all those years ago. The Natasha he was seeing now was the Natasha pre-Budapest.

"Well, whatever. Why don't you two just kiss and make-up?" Tony said with a wave of his hand.

"Tony, don't push it," Pepper mumbled from his left as she pressed her fingertips into her temples.

"What?" the billionaire whined innocently. "It's obvious that they still love each other - ."

"Love is for children," Natasha spat robotically.

"_Whatever_," Tony hissed before continuing his rant. "They're still in-sync with each other. They still glare at me the same way. I bet Big Bird over there knew when Natasha was rolling her eyes at me."

Tony was very perceptive. Clint knew that. But if Tony continued his little rant, he was going to divulge a little too much information to the point that either he or Natasha would be threatening him with a spoon. Tony had to stop but Clint knew there was no chance of that happening.

"Barton came back expecting to resume a relationship only to find out Spidey's dumped him and moved on," Tony continued. "But what Katniss doesn't know is that Spidey wore that arrow necklace all - ."

Tony didn't get to finish his story for Natasha was out of her seat in a flash. She grabbed the hairs at the nape of Tony's neck and yanked his head backwards. The billionaire let out a yelp and Pepper clasped her hands over her mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping. Natasha went so far as to hold a butter knife – still slick with butter – to Tony's throat.

"Finish that sentence if you want to die, Stark," the red head growled.

"Hey, Spidey, I'm just telling the truth," Tony wheezed as Natasha pressed the butter knife further into Tony's throat.

Things were getting out of hand. Clint could tell if someone didn't stop Natasha, she might actually make due on her promise. The archer was out of his seat and at Natasha's side in a second, his calloused fingers wrapping around the tense hand that held the butter knife.

"Natasha, put it down," Clint whispered.

Her green eyed gaze on Tony didn't falter and her grip on the knife didn't slacken.

"Tasha," he whispered. "He's not worth it. You _know_ how he is."

Her gaze on Tony stayed strong for a second until she looked away to glance at Clint. Her eyes were filled with worry and defeat, but Clint simply nodded as if to tell her it was okay. Her grip on the knife slackened and Clint quickly took it away from her, as if he was taking it away from a small child. He dropped the butter knife on the table as Natasha relinquished her grip on Tony. And within seconds, the red head was dashing from the room.

"She's mental. I'm telling you - ."

A blow to the face caused Tony to stop. Clint was seething as he flexed his fingers to make sure he didn't injure anything. It had been a while since he'd thrown a punch.

"What the fuck, Barton!?" Tony yelled as he grabbed a napkin to staunch the blood flow.

"You have absolutely no right to talk about the shit you just talked about," Clint growled.

"I'm just trying to help you guys out!" Tony said defensively.

Clint rolled his eyes and then marched out of the room. He was fed up with Tony's meddling. He knew the billionaire meant well, but it was never executed in the right ways. He headed across the living room only to find that it was empty. Looking around wildly, he realized that Natasha was officially MIA.

"Clint!" Pepper exclaimed breathlessly as she ran into the living room.

"Look, Pepper, I'm sorry about losing my temper - ."

The strawberry blonde shook her head. "Don't worry about it, but try your nest," she suggested. Clint arched an eyebrow at the Stark Industries CEO. "Trust me when I say that's where she'll be," Pepper added.

Clint nodded. "Thanks Pepper."

"Don't mention it," she said and then turned on her heel to return to the dining room.

Clint walked briskly to the elevators and pressed the button to call an elevator to the penthouse. Immediately, the doors to the elevator on the left slid open and Clint stepped on, jamming his finger on the button for the roof. The elevator doors slid shut with a squeal and it began its ascent to the utmost top floor of Avengers Tower.

Nervously, Clint drummed his fingers on the wall of the elevator. That wasn't exactly how he wanted dinner to play out, but at least he and Natasha had ganged up on Tony for old time's sake. In his eyes, the dinner was a success.

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open, bringing in a chilly breeze. Clint stepped forward to see the New York skyline laid out in front of him. As he stepped further away from the elevator, he realized how chilly it was outside. He hugged his arms to his body, regretting not bringing some sort of light jacket or sweatshirt with him to dinner. He should have figured he'd end up outside at some point.

"Come to gloat or something?"

Clint turned around wildly, searching for her in the darkness. Fortunately, he spotted her to his right, sitting on the ledge of the roof with her legs dangling over the edge. The wind was blowing her hair around her face, tousling it to even more perfection.

"What would I gloat about?" Clint asked, strolling forward to join her. He stepped up to the ledge and then carefully lowered himself down with his legs dangling over the edge. He made sure to keep a decent amount of space in between them. He still wasn't quite sure how comfortable she was around him.

"About the necklace," she shrugged, not meeting his gaze. "You never thought I'd wear it. Now, the cat's out of the bag that I wore it while you were gone."

"Was that what Tony was going to say before you so rudely interrupted him?" Clint asked sarcastically with a smirk.

"You're still a sarcastic asshole, I see," she said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

This was the Natasha he knew. These were the moments he missed. If only he could pick her brain and figure out what was going on up there, maybe they could go back to the friendship they used to have.

"Though, it felt good terrorizing Stark," she said with a light chuckle.

"Yeah, just like old times," Clint agreed.

They sat in silence for God knows how long, listening to the wind whistle and the city sounds float up to the roof from the streets. If only they could go back to this, Clint would be fine. Then again, this could be a fluke and Natasha could go back to being the cold-hearted bitch she'd been acting like tomorrow morning.

"Clint, I - ."

Natasha was cut off by the sound of someone hollering from the elevator. They turned around to see a white cloth napkin being waved around, followed by Steve's head poking out from the elevator. "Hey, sorry to interrupt," he said nervously. "But you need to come down. Fury's here. He says he has an update on the recovery mission."

Clint and Natasha looked at one another, green and blue eyes connecting, before scrambling from the ledge.

* * *

**Hmmm, what's going on? What's going on? Do you think it's good news or bad news about the recovery mission? What does this mean for our two favorite assassins who made excellent progress during this chapter? Will Tony ever learn his lesson? And will Thor ever learn good table manners? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone! I've got the next chapter here for you. I think you're going to like it. Enjoy!**

* * *

One by one, Steve, Natasha, and Clint filed out of the elevator and into the penthouse apartment. Fury was standing in front of the fireplace with the rest of the Avengers sitting or standing in a semi-circle in front of him. Steve sauntered into the room and claimed a seat on the arm of the sofa next to Sharon while Natasha continued into the room without so much as looking or speaking to Clint.

"Agent Barton," Fury boomed. "Have a seat."

The archer couldn't help but think that this wasn't a positive visit. He was convinced they'd found his gear, destroyed, blown to bits, broken beyond repair. Of course they could always get him a new bow with more advanced technology but Clint had had that exact bow since he'd joined SHIELD all those years ago. Parting with it involuntarily would be devastating.

Hesitantly, Clint paced across the room to join the rest of the group. As he entered the sitting area, he noticed that Natasha wouldn't meet his eyes.

_One step forward, two steps back I suppose_, he thought to himself.

Standing up from the couch, Tony vacated a seat and gestured to let Clint know he should take it. With a nod, Clint flopped down in the empty spot, which just so happened to be directly in front of Fury. The one-eyed director of SHIELD had been silent and patient as Clint made his way across the room, but now, he was simply staring back at him.

"As you know, roughly a week ago, we sent a recovery team out to salvage your gear," Fury started as he began to pace in front of the fireplace. His hands were clasped behind his back and his chin was jutted out in superiority.

"The team was sent to Jakarta, Beijing, Milan, Amsterdam, all across the globe," Fury continued. "Today, they left Jakarta and headed to Canberra to search another HYDRA base.

"I should've never updated you so soon, Barton," Fury added.

There was an uncomfortable pause and the Avengers waited with bated breaths. Clint hoped good news was going to follow but in all his years at SHIELD, Clint learned to never underestimate Fury. The man liked to throw curveballs. For all Clint knew, he could be here to tell them that the entire recovery team had been blown to smithereens. They could've gotten kidnapped themselves. The only positive outcome Clint saw was that they had a lead to the next base that could possibly have Clint's gear.

Fury was staring at the group, eyeing them with his one good eye. If it wasn't so ridiculous, Clint would be biting his nails out of anticipation. So he sat there, staring down Fury as he waited for an answer.

"For Christ's sake, Cyclops!" Tony shouted, breaking the silence. "Did you find Robin Hood's gear or not!?"

"Shut it, Stark," Fury spat before turning back to Clint. "Barton, they found it. They found it all."

Cheers erupted around him but Clint only let out a relieved breath. They found his gear. He could get back to a normal life, a normal routine. As long as he passed his psych evaluation, he would be back on missions with his bow.

"They should be back in six hours if you'd like to meet them when they arrive on base, Barton," Fury said monotonously.

Excitedly, Clint nodded his head. "Yes, definitely, sir."

"Great." The director of SHIELD unclasped his hands from behind his back and started walking towards the elevators. "I'll send a car for you an hour before they've arrived, Barton."

"Thank you, sir," Clint said with a grin.

Without so much as a goodbye, Fury stepped onto the elevator and disappeared behind the doors. Clint was relieved. He was so beyond relieved. He was ecstatic. The thought of possibly having to replace the one and only bow he'd ever used since joining SHIELD had nearly broken him.

"This calls for celebration!" Tony shouted, breaking through Clint's thoughts. The archer shook his head and directed his attention to Tony, only to find the billionaire heading into the kitchen.

"Oh no, no more celebrations," Bruce whined. "I think we're all still recovering from the last one."

Tony scoffed as he uncorked a bottle of wine. "That's ridiculous. Of course this calls for celebration. Feathers can officially be an Avenger again."

"Thanks Stark. It's nice to know that you're so supportive," Clint said flatly. He rose from the couch and stretched his limbs, reaching his arms above his head and feeling the muscles loosen. "Actually, I'm going to get going. I'm going to try to take a nap before I have to head to base."

Tony jutted his lower lip. "But Clint," he whined. It was rare that Tony used Clint's first name as opposed to a shameful nickname.

"Another time, Tin Can," Clint said.

Clint thanked Pepper and said goodbye to his teammates and the rest of the dinner guests. As he headed to the elevator, he realized Natasha was nowhere to be found. He was beginning to wonder if she actually was bi-polar. Her hot and cold attitude around him was really starting to get old.

As Clint rode the elevator to his floor, his mind wandered from his worries about Natasha to the fact that SHIELD had found his gear. Tony was right. He could finally be an Avenger again. He was nothing without his bow. His hand-to-hand combat skills were just as good, but they really did not compare in the slightest to his archery skills.

The thought of the return of his bow reminded him that Fury had mentioned they'd "found all of it." Clint had left for that mission three years ago with only three things on his person: his bow, his quiver, and his SHIELD uniform, which included quite possibly the most expensive investment Clint had made in his entire life.

Natasha's engagement ring.

* * *

The SHIELD Quinjet appeared against a palette of midnight blue as it hovered over the SHIELD tarmac. Clint was standing right inside the hangar bay by Fury's side as they watched the Quinjet slowly lower to the ground.

When the aircraft was safely on the ground, it felt like an eternity until the back end opened up and the SHIELD recovery team started to spill out. Some of them looked proud of their accomplishment. Some of them looked happy to be back on base. But most importantly, all of them looked exhausted. Clint wondered when their last good night's rest was and he figured it was probably before they even left for the recovery mission.

Barnes was the last one off of the Quinjet, carrying Clint's SHIELD uniform, bow, and quiver. When Clint noticed Barnes was holding his stuff, it took every ounce of energy in his body not to take off running and dropkick the bastard. He still didn't trust Barnes. No matter how many positive files he read about the guy, he knew that there wasn't something right about him.

Standing his ground, Clint waited for Barnes to approach him and Fury. In the faint moonlight, Clint could see the silver of Barnes' bionic arm. Through his research per the SHIELD database, Clint had learned that after surviving the fall from the train, Barnes had found his left arm lying several feet away from him in the snow. Completely severed from his body, there was no chance of saving it. The scientists that found him attached the bionic arm and then handed him over to Soviet Russia to commence his brainwashing treatment. From there, everything was history.

Draping Clint's SHIELD uniform over his shoulder, Barnes approached Fury and Clint. He held his hand out for Fury and the director firmly grasped the agent's hand for a handshake.

"Well done, Barnes," Fury said then turned to Clint. "We're going to take it into an examination room to make sure it hasn't been tampered with. After that, it will be all yours."

Clint nodded in understanding then turned to follow Fury and Barnes into base. They wound through the winding halls of the SHIELD base before stopping outside of a tech examination room. Barnes handed the bow and quiver full of arrows to a tech specialist and then he disappeared into the room, locking the door behind them.

The anticipation was killing Clint. His bow was back. They'd found it, but he still couldn't use it. Feeling the bowstring between his fingers again was all he wanted. It was quite possibly the only thing that could keep him sane until his psych evaluation in less than two weeks.

Fury cleared his throat, the deep sound echoing throughout the spacious hallway. Both Clint and Barnes turned to Fury, eyeing him quizzically. "Barnes, you can give Agent Barton his SHIELD uniform back. We don't need to test that."

Barnes nodded and pulled the uniform from where it was draped over his right shoulder. Clint was hesitant to take the uniform from Barnes grasp, but he did it anyways. He grabbed the familiar fabric and then draped it over his own shoulder.

"Thank, uh, Barnes," Clint uttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"No problem," Barnes said enthusiastically. "Just doing my job."

Clint raised an eyebrow at the former assassin. "Umm, yeah."

An awkward silence commenced between the two before Fury broke the silence once again by clearing his throat. "It might be a while, Barton," Fury said. "The cafeteria or the gym might be a better place to bide your time until the testing is complete."

Clint nodded. "Of course, sir," he agreed.

"Great," Fury said. "I'll contact you when we have an update from the tech team."

With that, the director turned on his heel and marched down the hall, leaving Clint and Barnes alone. They watched until Fury disappeared around the corner; his footsteps were still echoing for a few seconds after that. When Clint finally realized it was just him and Barnes, he felt very uncomfortable. He still didn't trust Barnes, therefore, he didn't want to be in his presence.

"So, umm, I'm just going to, uh, head to the gym," Clint said nervously, hoping to get away from Barnes as quickly as possible.

"Oh, mind if I join you?" Barnes inquired quickly.

Clint's jaw dropped. "Umm, what?"

"The gym. Mind if I join you? I'm in the mood for a good cardio exercise," Barnes said.

"Uh, sure?"

"Great!" Barnes exclaimed with a grin.

Clint just arched an eyebrow at Barnes before turning on his heel to head towards the gym. Barnes fell into step with Clint as they headed down the hall. All Clint wanted was some peace and quiet, but he couldn't tell Barnes that he couldn't go to the gym. The SHIELD base gym was for everyone. It wasn't like the gym at Avengers Tower where only residents had access. And as much as Clint wanted to tell Barnes to fuck off, he didn't. The last thing he needed was to be on Barnes' shit list in the event that he snaps in the future.

They reached the gym to find it eerily deserted with the exception of two SHIELD personnel. In the corner – biding their time with a punching bag – was a junior SHIELD agent, while one of the SHIELD medics was filling their downtime with a run on a treadmill. The moment they set foot in the gym, Barnes made a bee-line for a treadmill while Clint turned towards the benches to set his SHIELD uniform down. He turned his back to Barnes and reached into the small pocket of his bulletproof vest. He wiggled his fingers around to find…nothing.

Disappointment hit him square in the chest. He'd been so excited over his gear being recovered that he just assumed the ring would be there. What exactly would HYDRA want with a ring anyways? There was a possibility that it had fallen out of his vest at some point and he didn't realize it. The ring could be anywhere if that was the case.

"Everything all right, Barton?"

Clint jumped a foot in the air and spun around to see Barnes eyeing him from a treadmill across the room. Ever since his captivity, he'd been jumpier than usual.

"Yeah, umm…" Clint trailed off. He pondered whether he should mention to Barnes that there was still something missing. But then again, if he mentioned the ring, a story would have to follow, and Clint didn't know Barnes well enough to share that anecdote. Not to mention Barnes was dating his ex, the person the ring had been meant for.

However, Clint was curious. It was possible that Barnes did have it and just forgot about it. A ring was small enough to forget about. "You didn't happen to find a small trinket lying around at the HYDRA base, did you?" Clint asked. He didn't have to say what it specifically was. Maybe then Barnes would cough it up easier.

"What kind of trinket?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

_Damn._ "Uh, a ring?" There was no way to back out of this now. But then, Clint had an idea. "It was my mother's," he lied. "She was the only sane person in my family. Before she died, you know. I take it with me during every mission."

Barnes pondered Clint's fake story and the archer wondered if the former assassin could see right through his façade.

"Hmm, I can't say that I saw it," Barnes finally said. "HYDRA probably did something with it. Hocked it or experimented on it to turn it into some super tiny weapon. I wouldn't put it past them to do that."

In all of his years at SHIELD, Clint had learned to never underestimate an enemy's reasoning and capabilities. Surprisingly, he found himself agreeing with Barnes. Clint wouldn't be surprised if the ring turned up somewhere in the future in a fight against HYDRA as a laser shooter or something.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Clint said dejectedly as he turned back to his SHIELD uniform.

He'd lost Natasha's ring. Or the ring, so to say. It was meant for Natasha but it didn't belong to her. Therefore, it wasn't exactly hers. He never thought he'd feel so disappointed over something that wasn't exactly his. And yet, here he was, grieving as if he'd lost a relative.

At this point, he just hoped his bow hadn't been tampered with, or there would be nothing in this world to cheer him up.

* * *

About an hour after Clint discovered the ring was missing, Barnes had been called to Fury's office for debriefing on the recovery mission. He'd grabbed a clean towel from the table in the corner, wiped the sweat from his brow, and then bid Clint adieu as he walked briskly out of the room. Once Barnes was out of them gym, only then did Clint feel like he could finally focus on some sort of workout.

It was around six in the morning when Clint finally got a call from Fury about his bow. First, Clint had been surprised that he pretty much went a full 24 hours without sleep. His attempt at a nap earlier hadn't worked so he was practically running on fumes. He'd gone longer than that without sleep but since he didn't have any obligations, it was surprising that he'd stayed up this long. Second, he realized that Fury actually sounded positive, which hopefully meant what Clint thought it meant.

The archer met Fury outside of the tech examination room they'd dropped off his bow and quiver at hours earlier. Fury was dressed in his typical head-to-toe black with his hands clasped behind his back when Clint arrived, panting from practically jogging to the examination room. Once he caught his breath, Fury started to rattle off some pointless details that Clint didn't care about. It took every ounce of restraint in the archer's body to not create a scene and order the director to get to the point. But he bit his tongue and waited for Fury to deliver the good or bad news.

"So, with that said," Fury stated. "The tech team found that everything was in working order. The arrows work perfectly fine. The bow collapses the way it should. The arrows fire perfectly – ."

"So, it's good?" Clint asked hopefully.

Fury sighed, clearly annoyed that Clint had interrupted him. "Yes, Barton, you're clear to take your beloved bow with you."

If it didn't look strange, Clint would've jumped up and clicked his heels together. But he restrained himself as he waited for one of the tech personnel to bring his bow out. After several seconds, one of the tech personnel exited the room, carrying Clint's bow and quiver full of arrows. Clint stayed calm as the SHIELD employee handed him his preferred choice of weapon.

Clint must've looked like he was ready to make a run for it, for Fury sighed and said, "You're dismissed, Barton."

Clint nodded and then took off down the hall to head to the shooting range. His road to psychological recovery could officially begin. Gone were the nights of struggling to cope with horrendous nightmares. He finally had his bow to relax him when the nightmares terrorized him.

He finally reached the shooting range and he stumbled through the doors less than gracefully. Thankfully, the shooting range was deserted. Claiming a cubicle, he set his quiver of arrows down and pulled one out. With a deep breath, the archer nocked the arrow and then pulled the bowstring back. His guard and finger tab were with his SHIELD uniform (which he safely stowed away in a locker before he left the gym) so he would just have to deal with the repercussions. It was better than not firing his bow at all.

It felt good to feel the bowstring between his fingers again. It had been _years_ since he'd fired his bow so now he was just wondering if he was still as good as he was three years ago. Exhaling, Clint released the arrow, sending it flying across the range. He watched as it traveled the length of the room before lodging itself into the target, dead center.

"You've still got it."

Clint spun around in a panic, knocking his quiver to the floor and scattering the arrows across the cold ground. The only other person Clint knew to spend time at the shooting range this early in the morning was leaning against the doorway. Natasha's arms were folded across her chest and a smirk was displayed on her face as if she was pleasantly pleased with herself. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun and she was wearing a pair of skintight running leggings with a plain tank top and a running jacket. Her gun holsters were strapped to her thighs with her guns nestled comfortably in them.

Clint hadn't seen Natasha since the dinner at Tony's, which seemed like ages ago. When in reality, it had only been roughly 12 hours ago.

"You know, you guys really have to stop sneaking up on me," Clint said as he bent over to gather his arrows.

"Sorry," she said flatly. She stepped forward and claimed the cubicle next to Clint's. She pulled her guns from their holsters and set them on the counter before approaching Clint to help him gather up his arrows.

"You don't have to help me, you know," he mumbled, not daring to meet her eyes. "You can start target practice or whatever."

Natasha dropped the arrow she was holding but she didn't move from her crouch. Clint felt her menacing green-eyed stare on him as he finished picking up his arrows, but not once did he look up to meet her gaze. That was a fate he didn't wish to meet.

He finished packing his arrows into his quiver when Natasha cleared her throat. Clint stiffened but he still didn't meet her gaze.

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry for running out after Fury left," she said.

"Oh," Clint mumbled. "It's okay. It's no big deal." Clint stood up from his crouch and he heard Natasha do the same. He set his quiver on the counter but he could feel Natasha's presence behind him.

"Do you know I'm sorry?" the red head whispered.

In all the years Clint Barton knew Natasha Romanoff, he'd only heard her apologize to him a total of four times. Of those four times, three of them had been after being rescued from captivity, including this apology. But out of the three apologies following his captivity, this was the only sincere one. They may have lost three years together, but Clint still knew her like the back of his hand. He knew when Natasha Romanoff was being sincere and when she was lying. And right now, just by the tone of her voice, was a dead giveaway that she wasn't lying.

Clint spun around to find not the Black Widow, not Natasha Romanoff, but Tasha standing in front of him. "What are you sorry for?" he asked.

"Tony was right that I wore the arrow necklace practically every day that you were gone," she said. "But I never went to find you, and I'm sorry I never did."

Natasha tore her gaze away from Clint's to stare at the floor. Clint wanted to know more, but he knew it wasn't easy for Natasha to talk freely. Usually it was like pulling teeth with the female assassin.

"I sat around and waited, hoping you'd show up," she said, her eyes still trained on the floor. "How shitty of a partner was I? That's not like me. I should've gone after you. I should've tracked down HYDRA to find you. But I didn't.

"And then James came back and I never expected him to just shut down and become this charming son of a bitch," she continued. "And then you came back and I thought James would turn back into the Winter Soldier. I thought you're return would stir something deep inside him and turn him back into the Winter Soldier. So I told you to move on because I thought it was the best for both of us."

She paused to collect her thoughts. Throughout this entire monologue, not once did her gaze move from the floor. This was the Natasha Clint knew. The Natasha he knew was too afraid to look people in the eye because she was afraid of what they would think about her.

"But it doesn't look like he's going to revert back to his old ways," she said with a sigh. "In fact, it seems like he wants to be friends with you." The female assassin's head snapped up at this point, her green eyed gaze boring into Clint's stormy blue-grey eyes. "If it's okay – and if you accept my apology – I'd like for us to be friends too?"

Natasha's admission had Clint's head swimming. Had she pretty much, indirectly, admitted that she'd told him to move on to protect him? Because she thought Barnes was going to turn back into the Winter Soldier? His Natasha had still been there all along, even when she was being a stone cold bitch.

The thought put a smile on the archer's face, one of those goofy ones that Natasha rolled her eyes at. As if on cue, the smile elicited one of Natasha's fame eye rolls. The archer took a step forward and stared deep into Natasha's eyes.

"I'd like that too."

* * *

**Oh boy, think that's a recipe for disaster or could it actually work? Do you think Barnes can be trusted? What happened to Natasha engagement ring? And will Tony ever learn that alcohol and the Avengers do not mix? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are very much appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone! I can't remember the last time I updated this. I feel like it's been a week so I'm just going to apologize in the delay. Anyways, I think you're REALLY going to like this chapter. Enjoy!**

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_He was hidden deep within another HYDRA base, but his living quarters were just as unsanitary and bleak as all the others. He was tied to a chair this time; his bare chest was exposed to the elements. There was a throbbing pain right between his eyes and his shoulder felt like it had taken one too many blows._

_The steel door to the room was cracked open slightly and the whispers from outside floated in. Even in his half conscious state, he could follow his captors' conversation easily._

"_Why can't we kill him? He's a liability. He's SHIELD!"_

_There was the familiar sound of someone being slapped, followed by the grunt of the victim. "Boss said not to," said another voice. "Yes, he's a liability, but he can also be very valuable."_

"_SHIELD will come looking for us," another voice whispered. It was more high-pitched than the rest of them, but Clint could tell it was a man speaking. "We've had him for months now. Why don't we just kill him already?"_

"_We're not going to do that. It's against orders."_

_There was a collective sigh from the group and then an eerie silence. Clint sucked in a nervous breath as he listened to the _drip-drip_ of the dingy cell. He was almost certain they were going to kill him. Whichever HYDRA agent was following orders, he was definitely going to walk away and the rest of them would swoop in and make their move. They would go against orders and kill him._

_Instead, the steel door creaked open and Clint slowly pulled his head up to see the silhouettes of four HYDRA agents. If he could see their faces, he'd bet each of them would be wearing a mischievous grin that sent chills up Clint's spine._

_Slowly, the HYDRA agents advanced towards him, shutting the steel door behind them in the process. Clint knew what they were going to do. It was something he'd endured since day one of his captivity. If they weren't allowed to kill him, then they very well were going to make him suffer._

_They were in complete darkness. The only source of light came from the sliver of space between the bottom of the door and the floor. Clint could hear their footsteps growing closer and his heart began to race. He'd been taken hostage since he started working for SHIELD, but never had it been for months. It had been days, sometimes a couple of weeks, but SHIELD always got him out. Now that it had been months, he'd come to believe that there was no hope for him. Therefore, his nerves were starting to get the better of him._

_Suddenly, a spine-tingling cackle echoed throughout the room, followed by another, and another, and another. They were laughing at him. They were enjoying his pain. Pain spread through his jaw as he felt a fist connect with his face. He barely had time to catch his breath before another fist caught him in his right eye._

_A whimper escaped his lips just before the rest of the crew joined in. Blow after blow, Clint felt the life drain from him. But he'd been through this before. By the end of it, they'd walk away as Clint felt like dying, but Death would never come. Death never came because Death was a bitch._

_One of the HYDRA agents grabbed the back of Clint's chair and pulled him backwards. The archer went tumbling onto his back but the punching and kicking didn't stop. He got one quick gasp of air into his lungs before a boot came down on his face._

Clint plummeted to the floor in a tangle of bed sheets, sweat, and shame. His breathing hitched in his throat as he felt a pain shoot through his ribs. A pained moan emanated from his mouth and instinctively, he curled up into a ball. This was the third nightmare this week, the second night in a row.

It was strange that since getting his bow back – an item that usually calmed him and kept the nightmares of his past at bay – he'd been having nightmares more frequently. His mental recovery was not going well, what with the lack of sleep and terrorizing nightmares. His psych evaluation was in a week. There was no chance of him passing it if he couldn't get his mental state in check.

He laid on the floor for several minutes, debating on whether he should get up or not. There was probably a nasty bruise forming on his ribs and the sweat was already starting to dry and cling to his body, but none of that motivated him enough. The nightmare had been one of his most vivid memories of his captivity. Every day, he'd receive a punishment. For what, he did not know. He just sat there and took it because he hoped it would end soon.

After several minutes, Clint pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned against the bed. He craned his neck to check the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was only a little after three.

_Typical_, the archer thought morbidly.

There was no chance of him falling back asleep now; those nightmares would come back in full force. He grunted as he pushed himself off of the floor and stumbled across the room to his dresser. Blindly, he pulled out a pair of running shorts, a t-shirt, a fresh pair of boxers, and a pair of socks. He slammed the drawer shut and began to undress in the dark. After stumbling out of his sweaty boxers, he politely asked for JARVIS to turn on the lights, but only at a dim setting. The A.I. responded affirmatively and the room glowed to life. The archer thanked the A.I. and then proceeded with getting dressed.

When he was fully dressed – complete with running sneakers and all – he traipsed into the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. He felt grimy from the nightmare. Though he was going to the gym and would only get sweatier with his workout, he needed to clean the dried sweat from his body.

Wetting a wash cloth at the sink, he rubbed the cloth over his face, his arms, and his hands. His palms were especially clammy and if he didn't solve the problem now, it would provide for quite an issue later at the shooting range. So he wiped the sweat from his hands and dried them off with his towel that was hanging off the back of the bathroom door.

When he was finished, he marched out of the bathroom – dropping the wet washcloth into the hamper outside the door – and, ultimately, exited the bedroom. He headed down the hall and turned right to enter the kitchen. He made a bee line for the fridge to grab a bottle of water to take with him to the gym.

It took a few more minutes for him to pluck up the courage to head towards the elevator. He stood against the counter, sipping his water and staring at the elevator, wondering if he should go to the gym or spend the time between now and dawn in his apartment. After finishing his bottle of water and grabbing another, he was heading across the apartment and loading onto the elevator.

The ride to the gym was a short one. When the elevator stopped on the gym floor, Clint sluggishly dragged his tired body out of the elevator and towards the first available treadmill. He stumbled onto the treadmill track, stowed his water bottle in the cup holder, and adjusted the settings on the panel of buttons in front of him. Setting the speed to 6.0 and the incline to 1.5, he pressed the start button and the track started to move underneath him.

He'd been running for a good ten minutes when he felt a presence to his left. Turning his head, he found Natasha leaning up against the doorway to the gym, clad in her workout gear. Since they'd promised to work on a friendship, Natasha had been showing up at the gym when Clint did. If Clint didn't know Natasha, he would have found it creepy. But she had memorized when he woke up from his nightmares and headed to the gym so that she could join him.

"Another one?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Clint pressed the pause button and the treadmill's track slowed to a stop. The archer grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig before turning back to Natasha. "Yeah. This time I fell out of bed," he breathed with a nervous chuckle.

Natasha arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "That bad?"

"I guess. I probably have a pretty nasty bruise on my right side from when I hit the floor."

Natasha pushed away from the doorway and unzipped her workout jacket. She shed the black garment and tossed it on the floor near the wall. "Want to spar? It'll take your mind off of the nightmares," she suggested, walking past Clint. Clint turned to watch her walk away. Her hips swayed with every step and her workout gear hugged every gorgeous curve of her body.

_Don't, Barton,_ he scolded himself. _She's with Barnes._

"I think I'm good," he said, turning back to the panel of buttons on his treadmill.

"What? Afraid I'll beat you?"

Clint couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. He turned around to find Natasha standing with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk displayed across her face.

"Yeah, okay, you're on," he said, stepping off of the treadmill and following Natasha across the gym. They took their places at the opposite ends of a soft mat and started to stretch.

From across the blue mat, they eyed each other with intensity and tenacity. Before Clint's captivity, they'd been an even match. And even though Clint had been working hard since he returned, he was almost positive Natasha was going to come out on top, literally and figuratively. Maybe this sparring session wasn't such a bad idea. It would give Clint a chance to get back into the game.

"Ready?" she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

"Been ready," he shot back.

She was in front of him in a second, flipping him onto his back with the flick of her wrist. Clint landed on his back with an _oomph_ but quickly sprang to his feet. He got one quick swipe in before Natasha grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back again.

"Really? Is this all you've got?" she asked condescendingly.

Clint grunted as he pushed himself onto his feet again. Unfairly, he grabbed Natasha, spun her around, and put her into a headlock. The red head punched Clint in the gut but the archer didn't budge.

"Dammit, Barton!" the red head growled. "That's not fair!"

Clint chuckled before releasing Natasha. He immediately regretted it for the red head grabbed him around the waist and tackled him to the floor. He landed on his back once again while Natasha had him pinned to the ground. Her body was inches from his; her breasts were even closer. Both of them were breathing heavily, their chests rising and falling in rhythm, and they were so close that they could feel one another's hearts racing.

She'd been a bitch to him of course, but that didn't stop his urge to kiss her. They were so close to one another, so intimate, that he just couldn't fight it. There was a huge possibility that she didn't want the same thing – she was with Barnes after all – but he wanted to feel her lips on his. The worst that could happen was that she could punch him in the face. He experienced that before and he could handle it.

Slowly, he raised his head and he was surprised when Natasha didn't flinch away. It was almost as if she wanted it to. Closer and closer he inched towards her until their faces were centimeters away from one another. But the sound of a slamming door caused Clint's instincts to go into overdrive and the archer flipped Natasha onto her back and pinned her underneath him. Both of the assassins' heads snapped towards the doorway to find Barnes standing there with a ridiculous grin plastered across his face.

_Oh shit_, Clint thought. _ Please tell me he didn't see that._

"Hey, sparring, I see?" Barnes said as he walked towards the mat Natasha and Clint had been practicing on.

Clint pushed away from Natasha and jumped to his feet. He offered a hand out to Natasha but the red head simply ignored it as she struggled to her feet.

"Yeah, just trying to get Clint back in the game," Natasha said breathlessly as Barnes sidled up next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his body. Clint watched as Natasha affectionately wrapped her arms around the former assassin and cuddled into his embrace. Natasha had never been one for public displays of affection when they'd dated, so Clint wondered if she was just rubbing her relationship with Barnes in his face after that stunt he'd pulled.

"Ah yes, you should be going back into the field within a week, right?" Barnes asked curiously.

Clint nodded as he wiped the sweat off of his brow with the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Yeah, hopefully," he said. "As long as I pass my psych evaluation, I should be back in the field by next week."

Barnes scoffed playfully. "You'll be fine. You passed it once, you'll past it again."

Clint nodded awkwardly. It was true that he had passed SHIELD's psych evaluation once before, but that was when he'd first joined SHIELD. The nightmares he'd had before were bearable. And he also had Natasha, who had been just as fucked up and crazy as he was when he'd joined SHIELD, to help him through it. Now, he had been through three years of captivity and his ex-girlfriend and partner was playing mind games with him. His mental stability was questionable.

Barnes cleared his throat, pulling Clint out of his thoughts. "If you don't mind Clint, I'd like to have a word with Natasha here."

It took a second for it to register what Barnes meant. But when it did, he knew that Barnes wanted him to get the hell out. "Oh yeah, sure," Clint mumbled before traipsing across the gym to retrieve his bottle of water. Without even saying goodbye or looking over his shoulder, he exited the gym and loaded onto the next upward bound elevator.

As he headed back to his apartment, he smashed the heel of his palm into his forehead. How could he be so stupid? Natasha didn't want him. She'd made that very clear. It had been in the heat of the moment and Clint knew it was never going to happen again. Not to mention, how could he possibly pull a stunt like that in the gym of Avengers Tower where anyone, including Barnes – or even worse, Tony – could walk in on them?

Clint shook his head as the elevator reached his floor and the doors slid open to reveal his swanky living room. He padded across the room to the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee, in hopes of taking his mind off of the whole situation. Yawning, he pulled out the bag of Starbucks coffee grounds and dropped in the proper amount. He closed the top of the machine and pressed the button to brew before searching through his cabinets for a clean mug.

He watched idly as his coffee brewed and filtered into the pot, the sweet smelling aroma wafting throughout the kitchen. When the machine finished, he poured himself a mug and then padded into the living room in hopes of finding some interesting program on TV at this ungodly hour.

The moment he stepped into the living, the elevator doors slid open and out stepped Natasha. Clint – who was in mid-swallow – choked on his hot coffee. Did Barnes break up with her? Did she break up with him? No, Clint knew that was impossible and he was thinking too positively.

"So, James is on a mission for the next week," she said, stepping further into Clint's apartment. "He's headed to the SHIELD base right now."

Clint started at her in shock, only grunting an "uh huh" in response.

"I was just wondering if, maybe…I mean, I know this diner that's open 24 hours and I wanted to know if you'd like to get an early breakfast," she asked hopefully.

Clint glanced at Natasha's hands. She was absentmindedly picked at her cuticles, something the Natasha he knew never did. She was nervous and the sight of it nearly brought Clint to his knees. Without a word to Natasha, he retreated to the kitchen and dumped his coffee down the sink. He set the dirty mug in the sink before returning to the living room.

Natasha looked disappointed when he returned, almost as if his disappearance into the kitchen had been a hurtful rejection. However, her face lit up the moment he walked back into the room with a grin plastered across his face.

"Breakfast sounds perfect."

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**Uh oh, think this is a good idea? Do you think Barnes knows anything? Is Natasha falling in love with Clint again? Or is it possible that she never stopped? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Argghhh, so sorry for the wait. It was 4th of July weekend so on top of working four days in row, there were many festivities. Plus, I was teaching my cousin how to drive, then I took him for his driver's test this past Tuesday (that little shit passed by the way). So yeah, I've been busy. And I didn't want this chapter to be a let down so I worked really hard on it. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

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The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon when Clint polished off his coffee. Natasha sat across from him in the booth at the 24-hour diner, her ham and cheese omelet torn to pieces on the plate in front of her. They'd arrived at the diner an hour earlier, claiming a booth by the row of windows that overlooked the tranquil street. However, with the rising sun, the citizens of New York were starting to rise as well.

For the most part, Clint and Natasha sat in silence at the diner, but that was due to the consumption of food. Now that they were finished, conversation could commence. However, they remained in silence for a few minutes, gazing out the window of the diner pensively.

Natasha's sudden invitation had baffled Clint. She was very hot-and-cold with him. One moment she was calm, cool, and collect. The next, she was in bitch mode. Barnes' sudden departure had also elicited a sudden change in attitude in the female assassin, which generated a lot of questions for Clint.

From his peripheral vision, Clint noticed the elderly waitress sidle up to their table, her notepad in hand and pen at the ready. She glanced at their empty places before addressing them. "Can I get you two anything else?" she asked sweetly.

"No thanks," Clint said. Natasha shook her head. "Just the check."

The waitress nodded and then marched away to ring up their check. Returning his attention to Natasha, he found her staring out the window again, a pensive look on her face. Clint had so many questions, but he didn't want to ruin Natasha's good mood. He had to be careful what he said or there was a chance she could become easily offended.

Nervously drumming his fingers on the tabletop, Clint contemplated how to start a conversation. Talk about the weather? Comment on the busy morning traffic? Mention going for a run when they got back to Avengers Tower? There were so many possibilities but Clint didn't quite know what to say.

Clint was still lost in thought, contemplating what to say, when their waitress returned, slapping the bill on the tabletop and wishing them a good day before running off to tend to her other tables. The archer glanced at the bill and then reached for it, but found his hand colliding with Natasha's instead.

"I've got it," Clint boasted.

"Don't be ridiculous, Barton. This was my idea," Natasha said sourly.

"Your idea, my treat."

Natasha rolled her eyes and then retracted her hand, holding both up in defense. With a smirk, Clint grabbed the bill and looked it over before pulling out his wallet and retrieving a twenty dollar bill. He placed the bill and the twenty on the edge of the table and then returned his attention to Natasha. She was back to staring out the window, almost as if she didn't quite want to look at Clint. So, now he was curious. He had to ask.

"So…" Clint trailed off nervously.

Natasha turned back to face Clint. Her brow was furrowed in confusion and her arms were folded across her chest. "So, what?" she asked.

"There any particular reason you asked me out for breakfast?" Clint asked bluntly.

"This isn't a date, Barton," she stated icily.

"I know," Clint responded quickly and proudly. What kind of fool did she think him to be?

"Then what do you mean?" she asked condescendingly.

She knew _exactly_ what he was talking about but she was trying to beat around the bush. That wasn't going to happen on Clint's watch, though. "Well, an early morning workout together followed by Barnes' departure which caused you to suddenly ask me out for breakfast. What was the purpose?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

With the same stone cold glare, she said, "Seemed like a good opportunity."

But Clint knew better, so he arched an eyebrow at her once again. He could see through her façade; he was quite possibly the only person who could. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the red head sitting across from him. Their eyes connected and it wouldn't take long for the female assassin to grow uncomfortable.

They glared at one another in silence, the buzz of the diner patrons' voices becoming faint background noise the more they concentrated. After a couple minutes, Natasha began to squirm in discomfort. She unfolded her arms and gripped the edge of the seat. Hanging her head, she broke eye contact and sighed.

Natasha sighed again as she lifted her head. She held Clint's gaze for a second before directing it towards the window again. The cars whizzed by the window until traffic was halted by a red light several feet up the street. Natasha's eyes followed these cars as they rushed past the window; her focus was intent on avoiding Clint.

After several more seconds, Natasha pulled her gaze away from the window and dropped her head once again in shame. She folded her hands in her lap before raising her head. Her gaze didn't meet Clint's but he knew she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she mumbled incoherently under her breath. At first, Clint didn't catch what she'd said so he cleared his throat to get her attention. Her head snapped up and she shot him a nasty glare before repeating her answer.

"It's just good to have you back."

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"Legolas, look alive! It's your turn!"

Clint was roused from his thoughts and he looked wildly around the room to find his male Avengers teammates staring back at him in concern. Seated directly across the coffee table was Tony, who was holding his arm out, the pair of die in his outstretched palm. With a sigh, Clint took the die and shook them in his hand before releasing them to roll an eight.

Why Tony had decided the male Avengers needed a game night to bond was beyond Clint. And why they had to have it in Clint's apartment, he didn't quite understand either. But Tony was a pain in the ass and he was letting Clint live in Avengers Tower for free so he had complied grudgingly. Clint's only rule was that everyone else brought snacks and beer.

Clint grabbed his game piece and moved eight places forward on the game board. His game piece landed on a yellow square and he reached forward to pluck a card from the box. His eyes scanned over the card before standing up and walking over to the easel holding an oversized notepad. Clint uncapped the marker with his teeth and then looked over at his audience.

"Can we stop for the night?" Clint whined.

"Are you not enjoying the festivities, fair archer?" Thor boomed as he shoved a whole Pop Tart into his mouth.

Clint knew Tony meant well when it came to "team bonding." But he knew the billionaire's real purpose in organizing game night, and that was to get an update on Clint and Natasha's rekindled friendship. Since they'd gone out to breakfast, Clint and Natasha spent their early mornings in the gym – sparring, running, and lifting. After their workout, they'd typically get breakfast from the 24-hour diner, where they would eat in silence before paying the bill and leaving.

Barnes' absence had caused the rift between Clint and Natasha to shrink. Even though they spent their breakfasts in silence, more words were exchanged between them throughout the day. During their sparring sessions, insults were hurled at one another, followed by sly grins to show that they were only kidding. While they walked back to Avengers Tower, they made small talk about the weather and their gym session, but never one did they talk about important details.

Clint's rekindled friendship with Natasha had also stabled his mentality. While the nightmares were still frequent, he didn't wake up as terrorized as before. He still lost sleep over them, thus resulting in the early morning workout sessions with Natasha. But that was the point. Spending time with Natasha was helping his mental stability.

And right now, all Clint wanted to do was go to the gym, in hopes of running into Natasha there. Instead, he was stuck in his apartment, playing Pictionary with his teammates.

With a sigh, Clint turned to the oversized notepad, marker at the ready. Clearly there was no chance of him making a disappearing act soon.

"What's the matter, Robin Hood? Missing your beloved Maid Marian?"

A chuckle erupted from Tony's throat and Clint stiffened, the marker hovering just above the paper.

"Tony, stop," Steve scolded.

Angrily, Clint shoved the cap back on the marker and slammed it onto the small shelf on the easel. "Just finish the game without me," Clint grumbled as he stomped past his teammates and headed for the elevator. He pressed the button and the elevator doors slid open, revealing its chrome interior. Clint stepped in and pressed the door close button, barely glancing up at the doors before the shut.

The elevator idled in the shaft, waiting for a command from the archer. He knew his little episode in the apartment was uncalled for, but playing Pictionary was the last thing he wanted to do right now. His psych evaluation was in three days. And though team bonding could contribute to mentally stabilizing himself, it actually made him lose his mind.

Clint leaned against the back wall of the elevator and sighed. He may have been held in captivity for three years by HYDRA, but that didn't mean he needed to be around a group of people all the time. Clint's teammates knew that he was a bit of a loner before his captivity. The company he had when he'd returned was nice but now it was starting to get old. His captivity hadn't changed him; he still preferred to be alone with the exception of one person.

"JARVIS?" Clint said, pushing away from the wall.

"How may I assist you, Mr. Barton?" the A.I. responded.

"Is Natasha in the building?" Clint asked.

"Yes, Mr. Barton. She is in her apartment on the 17th floor."

_How ironic_, Clint thought sarcastically. _Of course Tony would put me the apartment that's a floor below Natasha._

"Thank you JARVIS," Clint answered.

"Shall I take you up there?" the A.I. asked.

"That would be great."

JARVIS responded with the elevator's ascent. Clint knew this was a bad idea. It was a horrible idea, but Natasha was the only person he figured would understand how he felt. Of course their friendship wasn't strained, but they weren't the way they were before his captivity. Barging into her apartment unannounced seemed like a good way to get killed by the Black Widow.

The elevator came to a halt and Clint felt his heart start to pound against his rib cage. He certainly hoped she wouldn't get mad. At the very least, he hoped she would just kick him out if he was unwanted.

The silver doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit living room. Clint hesitated to step out of the elevator, but he was here now; he might as well. He stepped through the doorway and into the posh living room. A faint glow emanated from the fireplace, casting a haze throughout the room. The furniture was basically the same as Clint's: pale white material placed in a semi-circle around the fireplace. A glass coffee table was placed in the middle, surrounded by the pale furniture.

In the dim light, Clint couldn't tell if Natasha was in the room or not. He glanced over to his right, to where the kitchen was situated, only to find it in darkness.

"Done staring?"

Clint jumped and wildly looked around the room for the source of her voice. A low chuckle came from his right and he looked over the find Natasha standing at the end of the hallway. She was clad in a pair of shorts and a ratty old t-shirt while her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun. By the looks of it, she wasn't angry that he'd intruded, but the night was still young.

"I was just, umm, looking for you," Clint stated as he swallowed nervously.

The female assassin nodded before padding across the room and flopping down on the couch. Clint stayed stationed at his spot in front of elevator, unsure if he was welcome to proceed further into the apartment.

"Well don't just stand there," she grumbled. "Come sit down."

Clint breathed a sigh of relief before dragging his feet to carry him further into the room. He took a seat on the couch, staying as far away from Natasha as possible.

"Don't worry. I'm not mad," Natasha said as she pulled her legs onto the couch and tucked them underneath her. "I have JARVIS tell me whenever someone is heading up to the apartment."

Clint nodded, but his nerves were still getting the best of him.

"So, what's up?" she asked, resting her elbow on the arm rest and cradling her head in her hand.

"Oh, umm, just really annoyed by team game night," Clint mumbled.

"Well, I'm glad you're back so that I don't have to go to those anymore," Natasha teased. "Being the only girl kind of killed the mood."

Clint chuckled. "You're not missing anything. Tony's overly competitive. Steve puts everyone else's drawings to shame. Thor shoves his face with Pop Tarts and Bruce sits in the corner, acting like he doesn't care."

"Ah, Pictionary," Natasha stated.

"Yeah, Pictionary," Clint chuckled in agreement.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sound was the hum of the electric fireplace which was the source of light for the vast living room. The light bounced off of Natasha's red hair, casting a fiery halo around her head.

The sudden urge to kiss Natasha hit Clint in the chest like a sack of bricks. It was similar to before his captivity, when he'd been hopelessly in love with her and was close to getting down on one knee. Little things, such as the way the light hit her hair or the way she looked down when he told her something that made her blush, always knocked the air out of his lungs.

Suddenly, Natasha jumped from the couch, breezed past Clint, and headed into the kitchen. Clint couldn't help but admire the way her hips swayed with every step and how her black shorts hugged her curves, particularly her ass.

"You want some coffee? Tea?"

Clint was spooked by the sound of the red head's sultry voice and he hoped she hadn't caught him staring. She was reaching into a cabinet, her toned leg muscles stretching as she stood on her tip toes; Clint couldn't help but stare even more.

"Clint? Do you want anything?" she asked again. She'd retrieved what she needed from the cabinet – a packet full of Starbucks coffee grounds – and she was already setting up her red coffee maker.

"Umm, yeah, yeah, sure. Coffee's good," he agreed. He rose from the couch to join her in the kitchen; he hoped that being closer to her wouldn't cause him to stare at the finer parts of her body.

He mounted the steps to the kitchen just as Natasha closed the top of the coffee maker and hit the button to start brewing. Instantly, the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. The _drip-drip_ of the coffee filled the silent room. Natasha was leaning against the counter while Clint was directly opposite her, leaning against the island. Neither one of them made eye contact with the other in hopes of avoiding any more awkwardness.

_Just drink the damn coffee and then go_, Clint thought to himself. _Don't make this complicated._

The coffee maker finished spewing the freshly brewed liquid and Natasha pounced on the opportunity, thankful to finally have something to do. She pulled the pot from the burner and then turned to Clint. "How much do you want?" she asked, holding up the pot.

"Oh, umm, I don't know. About three-fourths of a mug, I suppose," he said.

Natasha nodded in understanding and then turned around to grab the jar full of sugar in the corner.

"I'll grab mugs, if you'd like," Clint offered.

"They're right above me," she said, not daring the meet his gaze.

She didn't object; she didn't say no. Therefore, Clint stepped forward and reached over Natasha's head to retrieve two mugs from the cabinet. Their bodies were inches from one another's, and yet, neither one of them flinched away from the other. Closing the cabinet door, he handed one mug to Natasha, which she took graciously. She poured the steaming hot liquid into the mug and then traded it for the second mug.

As Clint passed Natasha the mug, their fingers brushed against one another. A small, faint gasp slipped from Natasha's mouth, her pouty lips parting slightly. It was at that moment when Clint realized how close he really was to Natasha. Outside of the sparring ring, this was the closest they'd ever been. His chest was less than an inch from her shoulder. He was so close he could practically feel the heat radiating from her body.

Right now was his chance, and he knew he should take it. But the thought of getting caught or even getting hit by Natasha was what was holding him back. He worried that Barnes was going to walk through the elevator doors, returning home early from his mission to surprise Natasha.

Then there was the memory of the first time he'd kissed Natasha. He'd caught her off guard and she'd caught him off guard as well. He kissed her; she decked him in the eye, enough to draw blood. Clint had received five stitches and Natasha walked around the SHIELD base for the next week with a smirk across her face, pretty pleased with herself.

But if he didn't do it, he'd regret it. That much he knew. He knew Barnes would be returning in a couple days so who knew when his next opportunity would be, or if there even would be another one.

He noticed Natasha's breathing hitch in her throat as her eyes landed on Clint's lips. That was the only sign Clint took to go forward with his plan. Leaning in ever so slightly, he could feel her breath on his. His lips hovered over hers for a split second before they connected.

She was still at first and Clint barely did anything. It was a simple touch, lips on lips, before he pulled away. His heart was pounding, anticipating her lashing out at him. He expected a punch in the throat or a slap across the face. Instead, she stared at him with a look he'd seen one too many times.

Hunger.

It all happened so quickly. One minute, the mug of coffee was in his hand. The next, it was shattered on the floor in an ugly, black puddle. Natasha gripped Clint's shoulders and shoved him from one counter to the other. His spine hit the countertop of the island, eliciting a moan of anguish from the archer that barely made it out before Natasha's mouth covered his.

Her hands were all over his body and, awkwardly enough, he didn't quite know what to do with his. Their lips molded to one another's, as if they'd just kissed yesterday. They fit perfectly together as their lips moved other one another's and their bodies molded to the other's. Clint found himself resting his hands on her hips while her hands traveled up his chest and rested on his face.

Their goodbye kiss three years ago wasn't this passionate. Their first kiss wasn't either. Hell, their second or third or tenth kisses weren't this fabulous either. Kissing during sex never got this heated and their goodbye kisses were just pecks on the lips. This was three years of pent up frustration, three years of longing, being released into the open. And it felt fucking fantastic.

It was almost as if Clint could feel the hunger in Natasha subsiding as her lips slowed down from roaming over Clint's. When she stopped, she pulled away from him but her body was still pressed up against his. Their breathing was heavy – he could feel her chest heaving against his – and they were gripping each other as if they thought the other would disappear.

Staring into Natasha's eyes, Clint didn't see anger or hatred. He only saw longing. "Wow," he breathed.

Natasha nodded, breathing heavily. "Three years will do that to you."

Grinning, Clint leaned in again and placed a soft and chaste kiss upon Natasha's red lips, as if it were natural for the archer. "Now that I know you're not going to kill me, how about that coffee?" he asked.

A smile spread across her face and a breathy laugh escaped her lips. Clint released her from his grip and bent over to clean up the mess on the kitchen floor as Natasha grabbed another mug from the cabinet.

There was no telling if this was real or a figment of Clint's twisted imagination. One thing was for sure though. The archer had no worries about his psych evaluation in three days. With his Natasha back in his life, he knew it would be a breeze.

* * *

**Are you still breathing? Take a deep breath. Good. Now that they've kissed, what's going to happen now? Will Natasha end things with Barnes? Will Clint and Natasha leave it at that? Or will this make things even more complicated? And will we ever find out what Clint was supposed to draw during the game of Pictionary before he stormed out!? Oh the burning questions! Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 11

**So sorry for the delay once again. I hope the length makes up for it. I've been pretty uninspired to write lately. I have a lot of this story planned out but the desire to write has been absent as of recently. Well, the desire to write fanfiction. I got inspired to write an original story so I've kind of been daydreaming about that as of recently. And it's all because I watched the remake of _Evil Dead_ and fell in love with Shiloh Fernandez. He's my muse haha. But enough about my writer problems. I hope you like this chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

Less than 36 hours until Clint's psych evaluation and counting. Less than 48 hours and counting until Barnes returned from his mission. The looming figurative countdown could not have made Clint any more nervous than he already was. The fact that his psych evaluation determined whether he was mentally fit to return to the field or not, had him on edge. Clint knew Fury wouldn't let him go in the event of his failure from the psych evaluation, but he would prolong his return to the field. And that alone would make Clint go insane.

The looming return of Barnes also had Clint on edge. His friendship with Natasha had grown stronger since their kiss in the kitchen of her apartment, and Clint wondered if Barnes would know the moment he returned. Some men were just able to tell when their woman was cheating. And since Barnes and Natasha were both trained by the Red Room, there was a possibility that Natasha's stoic façade wouldn't fool him.

But that didn't stop Clint from spending more time with Natasha. His approaching psych evaluation didn't hinder his desire to spend time with the female assassin. It only made it stronger.

Clint had had another nightmare – he'd been doused in gasoline and the HYDRA thugs teased him with lit matches, but never once dropping them on the fuel – and headed to the gym to shake it off. As usual, it was early in the morning when the nightmare decided to rear its ugly head.

When Clint had arrived at the gym, Natasha was waiting for him, stretching her toned muscles in the corner of the room. He crossed the vast room and joined Natasha in the corner to stretch before their sparring session. Though Natasha was finished, she continued to stretch to keep Clint company. Then they headed over to the sparring mat to begin their session.

"Ready?" Natasha asked flatly with an arch of her eyebrow.

Clint nodded and then got into a fighting stance. Of course he was barely ready for the first strike from Natasha; a swift kick to the back of his knees sent him toppling onto his back. He sprang to his feet immediately and lunged for the red head. The pair plummeted to the mat, landing with an _oomph_ on top of one another.

Displeased with Clint's dominance, Natasha balled her right hand into a fist and struck Clint in the ribs, causing the archer to yelp. Natasha shoved him off of her and then climbed on top of him, pinning him to the mat. One of her knees was pressed into his shoulder while the other held down his one arm. The archer squirmed uncomfortably underneath the female assassin, but he had to admit that he wasn't quite complaining.

"I win," she purred with a smirk.

"Yeah, fine," he grumbled before lightly shoving the red head off of him. Natasha toppled to his left side, sprawling out on the mat. Clint sat up and rested his arms on his knees as he caught his breath.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes; the only sound was of their heavy breathing and the hum of the machines in the gym. After that, Natasha sat up, her body inches from Clint's, and rested in a similar position to his.

"Are you nervous?" Natasha asked after a couple minutes, lightly nudging Clint with her shoulder.

Clint never got nervous over these types of things. But if he didn't pass the psych evaluation, he could not return to the field. Clint knew Fury wouldn't give up on him, but he would prolong his return to the field until he passed the evaluation.

The archer shifted uncomfortably on the mat before shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled. "I just hope I won't fuck it up."

"You won't fuck it," Natasha asserted reassuringly. "You did it once before. You can do it again."

Clint scoffed. "You sound like Barnes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Natasha recoil from him, almost as if she'd been offended by that comment. He turned to face her to find that her face was contorted in repulsion.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

He struck a nerve. He struck a fucking nerve. He knew this was too good to last; he knew she wasn't going to be nice to him for long. It was only a matter of time until she returned to being mega bitch. And it was all too coincidental that Barnes was returning soon.

Swallowing nervously, he stared into the icy, cold green eyes of his former partner and ex-girlfriend. Their rekindled friendship was fun while it lasted but now he'd screwed it up with his big fat mouth.

"I-I just…I mean, Barnes said the _same exact thing_ - ."

"Yeah, _and_?" she interjected coldly.

Clint swallowed nervously again. What was the use of keeping this friendship anyways? What exactly would he gain from it? He was a fool for thinking she'd want to get back together with him. Obviously that kiss in her kitchen meant nothing to her.

Taking a deep breath, Clint said, "I don't trust him, Natasha."

Slowly, Natasha shook her head in disbelief. "You don't know him."

"And you do?" Clint countered angrily. He stared at her for a few seconds before rising from his spot on the mat. Natasha stayed put in her spot as Clint towered over her. "He's a brainwashed assassin, Natasha. He's dangerous."

"And I wasn't?" she questioned as a rebuttal.

Clint frowned. "That was different."

Natasha shook her head slowly and then rose from her spot on the mat as well. She stood directly in front of Clint, her arms folded over her chest and an icy glare fixed on her face. "Just because it took me longer to gain your trust doesn't mean James is the same way."

"He could snap at any moment!" Clint exclaimed, flailing his arms about. "Brainwashed people don't just revert back to their old ways at a moment's notice. There's something up with him."

"What would you know!?" Natasha shouted. "You've been in captivity for _three years_! You don't know _a thing_ about him!"

"I know enough about betrayal to know that he's no good," Clint shot back, gritting his teeth.

Natasha, ever so slightly, flinched away from Clint. She knew enough about his past to know that betrayal is one of the worst things that happened to him.

"This is different, Barton. _He's_ different," Natasha said.

And that's when Clint knew that he didn't compare to Barnes. Like all the men Natasha had duped and seduced in the past, Clint was falling for her schemes. She and Barnes were the perfect pair, trained in mind trickery and seduction. There wasn't room for Clint in her life anymore, even as a friend.

Sighing, Clint turned on his heel and headed across the gym. For a split second, Natasha thought he was messing with her; he always was a jokester after all. But when he didn't turn around and acknowledge her, she shouted to stop him.

"Clint, where are you going?"

A few feet away from the door, Clint halted. He didn't turn around to face her, opting to keep his gaze focused forward instead. Choosing his words carefully and wisely, he spoke, "I'm sorry, but I think it's time we moved on."

Hoping his words stung like venom, Clint marched through the doors of the gym and out of Natasha's life.

* * *

Of all the times sleep had to evade him, it was the night before his psych evaluation. It had nothing to do with nightmares. It had nothing to do with being restless. He just _couldn't_ sleep.

His mind was racing, reeling from his argument with Natasha. Had he been too harsh with his final statement? Possibly, but she deserved a taste of her own medicine. Did it hurt like hell for him too? Of course it did. Through all the arguments and bullshit, he, strangely, still loved the crazy Russian assassin.

His impending psych evaluation, however, was most likely the cause of his sleep deprivation. He'd been doing so well in Natasha's presence; he'd actually felt confident that he was going to pass. Now, what with the most recent argument, he wasn't so confident in himself.

Lying in bed, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling, he waited for night to turn into day. However, the sun never peaked, for the looming dark clouds of a dreary, rainy day hung over Manhattan. With a sigh, Clint climbed out of bed and padded to the bathroom just as a slight pitter-patter of rain drops hit his window. As if his lack of sleep wasn't enough of a dreary indicator of what was to come, it had to rain as well.

Clint showered quickly, covering his body in soap suds and lathering his hair with the fruity smelling shampoo. He rinsed his body in no time and then turned off the water. Drying off with one of the fluffy towels Tony provided for all of his residents, he wrapped it around his waist before heading back into his bedroom to get dressed.

The rain had transitioned from a drizzle to a steady precipitation by the time Clint emerged from the bathroom. The dreary weather caused Clint to sigh as he rooted through his dresser drawers to retrieve a pair of jeans, boxers, and a t-shirt. Sluggishly, he slipped the clothing on and then ran the towel through his hair to dry it. On his way out the door, he chucked his towel into the laundry basket and then headed to the kitchen to make some coffee.

It seemed that as the day dragged on, it grew drearier and drearier outside. The clouds grew darker and the rain grew heavier. Clint wondered if his psych evaluation would get postponed in the event of major flooding, but the odds of that were slim to none. Knowing Fury, he would send a boat for Clint so that he'd make it to his appointment on time.

Sitting in the living room as he sipped his second cup of coffee, the elevator behind him pinged, signaling the arrival of a guest. Clint turned around just as the elevator doors opened to reveal Bruce. The scientist was dressed down in a rumpled t-shirt and a pair of jeans. His eyes were weighed down with sleep while his hair was messy and disheveled. And still, somehow, Clint figured Bruce looked far less exhausted than he did.

"Morning Clint," Bruce greeted cheerily as the elevator doors slid shut behind him.

"Morning Bruce," Clint grunted as he rose from the couch. He walked around the couch and greeted Bruce with a firm handshake. "What's going on?"

"Well, I know your psych evaluation is today so I figured I'd tag along for moral support," Bruce said as he placed his hands on his hips. "That is, if that's okay with you," he added.

Forgetting about his argument with Natasha, Clint was reminded of what supportive teammates he had. Just the thought of the back-up he had with his teammates made the archer. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, I'd like that."

In response, Bruce beamed. "Great!" he exclaimed. "I know it's not for a few more hours but I thought I'd come by early to ask."

"No, it's great, Bruce. Would you like some coffee?" Clint tossed over his shoulder as he padded into the kitchen.

"Coffee would be great," Bruce replied.

Clint set his mug on the counter to retrieve a clean mug from the cabinet. Graciously, Clint poured the steaming hot liquid into Bruce's mug and then handed it off to him. He grabbed the milk from the fridge and passed it to the scientist before pouring himself another cup. He knew he should cut himself off after this; he didn't want the psychologists to think he was a maniac from being so jittery from the caffeine. But coffee was the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Clint joined Bruce at the island, standing opposite him as he stirred the milk around in his drink. When his drink was to his liking, Bruce tapped the spoon on the edge of the mug, set it down, and took a sip of the steaming hot liquid. "Thanks for that," Bruce said as he set his mug back down.

"No problem," Clint answered, taking a sip of his own drink.

The two teammates sat in silence for a few minutes; the only sound echoing throughout the room was the pitter-patter of raindrops against the side of the tower. The looming presence of Clint's psych evaluation was bringing a sense of dread to this entire day. Nervously, Clint found himself incessantly stirring his coffee, mixing the milk and coffee together. He wouldn't be surprised if he failed his evaluation based on his nervous mannerisms alone.

After a long bout of silence, Bruce piped up, clearing his throat. Clint raised his head and looked at the scientist with dread.

"You're going to do just fine, Clint," Bruce said reassuringly. "You're not mentally unstable."

Clint shrugged, returning his attention to his coffee. "I feel like I am sometimes."

The scientist shook his head. "I've seen people who are beyond help and you are nowhere near that type of instability."

Clint nodded. "Thanks Bruce," he said glumly.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, enjoying their coffee and listening to the sound of the rain collide with the side of the building. After some time, Bruce politely asked for another cup of coffee, to which Clint graciously obliged. He filled the mug up with the steaming black liquid before returning it to Bruce with a smile.

Preparing his coffee the way he liked it – a splash of milk with two spoonfuls of sugar – Bruce took a sip and reacted with a pleased moan. "Thank you," Bruce said politely.

"No problem," Clint mumbled as he refilled his mug.

"Will anybody else be joining me for moral support?" Bruce asked.

Clint grunted. "Don't think so," he said.

"Huh," Bruce grunted. "That's weird. I would've thought Natasha would come."

Instinctively, the muscles in Clint's back and arms stiffened as if it were negatively reacting to the mention of Natasha's name.

"Sorry, sorry," Bruce said quickly and defensively. "I just noticed you two were hanging out more and I just thought she'd come."

Clint sighed, hanging his head as he leaned against the counter. "No, it's okay, Bruce."

"I'm really not trying to pry like Tony does," Bruce said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Bruce."

It was like he couldn't escape Natasha, no matter how hard he tried. He had been the one to push her away this time and she still haunted him. Now, the red-headed assassin was on his mind at the most inconvenient time. If he miraculously passed his psych evaluation today, he just wanted to start over. He wanted a clean slate and that clean slate wouldn't involve Natasha Romanoff.

"She's pretty tough, you know," Bruce chimed in, breaking through Clint's thoughts. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Clint scoffed. "That's a new play on 'It's not you, it's me.'"

"I'm serious," Bruce said, reaching across the counter to pat Clint's hand. "She's just really guarded."

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

Their conversation hung unfinished in the air as if there was more to say, but neither one of them said a word. They reverted to silence once again and drank their coffee until the cups were empty.

After several more minutes, Bruce slid his empty mug across the counter. "Think we should get going?"

Solemnly, Clint nodded. He took Bruce's empty mug, as well as his own, and set them in the sink to be washed when he returned. Then, he turned back to the scientist and nodded, letting him know he was ready. In silence, Clint trudged behind Bruce to the elevators. If anyone didn't know Clint, they'd think he was heading to his untimely death. But in retrospect, it was so much worse than that.

* * *

The bleak grey walls of the SHIELD psychiatrist's room seemed to match Clint's mood, along with the current weather. He was seated on the edge of a black leather chaise which was situated directly across from a black leather armchair. Clint was the only one in the room which contributed more to his anxiety. He just wanted to get this over with.

A creak from the other side of the room caused Clint's head to snap up. Stepping through the doorway was a dark red haired woman. She was dressed in a pencil skirt and a dark blue satin top. Hugged to her chest were, what Clint assumed, his files as well as a notepad to record the proceeding meeting.

"Hello Agent Barton," she greeted warmly. "I'm Dr. Grey. I'll be here to conduct your psych evaluation."

Glumly, Clint nodded and Dr. Grey took that as a sign to take a seat in the black leather armchair. She crossed the room and quietly took a seat in the chair. Clint didn't acknowledge her as she arranged her papers and files so that the notepad was placed on top of her lap. She adjusted her glasses so that they were positioned properly on her face before looking up at Clint.

"Okay, let's begin."

* * *

The volume was on mute so he could hear the torrential downpour ravaging the side of the tower. The blur of colors from the television blinded him and the downpour drowned out all other noises in the tower, hence why he barely heard the elevator ping to signal the arrival of a guest. The sounds of her soft footfalls were what made him draw his attention away from the TV. Turning around, he saw her dark silhouette through the dimly lit room.

He rose from the couch and slowly approached her, keeping his gaze locked on her silhouette as it slowly came into focus. Her red hair. Her full lips. The faintest shade of pink on her porcelain cheeks. The curves of her thighs that had killed thousands of men and some women.

With just a foot in between them, Clint stopped dead in his tracks. He could see the rise and fall of her chest with every breath she took and he could feel the heat radiating from her body despite being soaked head to toe from the monsoon outside. Her rapid breathing had Clint convinced she was nervous and she was shivering from her soaked clothing.

Not once had Natasha's eyes made contact with Clint's. Her arms were hugging her body as she sucked in a deep breath to control her chattering teeth. Only then did the female assassin raise her head and lock eyes with Clint, green eyes boring into blue-grey.

"How'd it go?" she mumbled softly.

Even after it all, she still cared. Even after he demanded she move on, she still wanted to know how his psych evaluation went. That's when he knew that no matter how hard he tried, his favorite red head assassin couldn't be cut out from his life.

"I passed," he breathed.

The corners of Natasha's lips twitched, an action Clint was all too familiar with. Stepping forward slowly as if she were on the prowl, she reached up and allowed a hand to slither around the back of Clint's neck. With a low growl emanating from the base of her throat, she pulled him closer, their chests touching, and then locked lips with him.

The hunger in her had stirred again. But this time, it was different. Clint could tell as she playfully bit his lower lip and ran her hands up his chest that she was hungry for something different. And he had no control to stop her. His hands rested on her waist and he lightly shoved her backwards. The female assassin complied and the two assassins went stumbling back the hallway, headed for the bedroom.

They'd barely made it to the bedroom before half of the clothes had been shed from each of their bodies. By the time they stumbled into the room, Clint was just in his boxers while Natasha was in a black lace bra and panties ensemble. They collapsed on top of his bed in a tangle of limbs before shedding the final layer of clothing, finally allowing them to revert back to the days before the archer's captivity.

* * *

**Uh oh, what have I done? Things just got way more complicated. And for those of you that were concerned about the whole cheating storyline, I swear it's going somewhere. It will all play out perfectly. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Hey everyone! Apologies once again for the delay in updates. I think you're REALLY going to like this chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't know own the song lyrics below. They belong to The Calling.**

* * *

_If a great wave shall fall,_

_It'd fall upon us all._

Clint hadn't felt this good since before his captivity. He passed his psych evaluation so he was back at SHIELD for good. He had great teammates that backed him up. But most importantly, his female counterpart was sleeping soundly next to him. And that was all that mattered to him.

Thankfully, sometime during the night, the monsoon outside had subsided to a steady drizzle. The winds had been howling while the precipitation ravaged the exterior of Avengers Tower. Not that Clint and Natasha had heard it over the sound of their sexual adventure, but once they'd calmed down, so had the rain outside

Now, Clint lied in bed, staring at the ceiling with a sleeping Natasha next to him. He knew what they did was wrong; Natasha was still with Barnes. But the hunger that had overcome them the night before had been inevitable. Clint wondered if there was no turning back from here.

From his left, the female assassin sighed, a sure sign that she was awake. Clint smiled to himself as he heard the woman next to him shift in the bed, rolling over and pressing herself into Clint's side. He wrapped a strong arm around her back and pulled her closer to his body. Adjusting her position, Natasha squirmed in Clint's grasp so that she could press a kiss to the archer's bare chest. Clint moaned in pleasure; the feeling of her lips on his skin was something he could never quite forget.

A mischievous smirk played upon the red head's face as she returned to her position against Clint's side. "Morning," she purred.

"Morning," Clint grinned.

"Sleep well?" she asked.

Clint had to admit that he did, in fact, sleep well. Of course, he didn't get a full night's rest but he did sleep uninterrupted, free of nightmares. There was a possibility that the threat of his impending psych evaluation had cured him of the night terrors, but he knew the real reason and it just so happened that she was lying right next to him.

"Yeah, slept perfectly," he said with a grin.

The red head returned the gesture as she snuggled into Clint's side, sighing out of content. Clint had already faced one hurdle but he knew there was still one more. The archer knew Barnes should be returning any time now, which meant that Natasha would have to leave. It was the last thing Clint wanted to do, kick Natasha out of his apartment, but he didn't quite want to face Barnes if they were caught in bed together.

But the slightest murmur from Natasha roused him from his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

"Sorry, what?" he mumbled apologetically.

"I should tell him," she reiterated. "I should say something."

Clint felt his warm blood turn to ice. What they had done was wrong, very wrong. But never did Clint expect Natasha to want to end things with Barnes just so she could be with Clint again.

"W-what do you mean?" Clint asked nervously.

"I should end things," she said. "This can't keep going on. I feel guilty."

Clint had to laugh at that. "The Black Widow feels guilty."

The red head rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she snapped. "He's a good guy, Clint. He deserves better. And he always knew I was waiting for you to come back, even after it seemed like I'd moved on.

"I was _always_ waiting for you to come back," she admitted. "And I'm really sorry I pushed you away when you finally did come back."

Clint was stunned by her confession. Then, the red head turned her head, allowing her green eyes to bore into Clint's. The stunning emerald orbs he'd fallen for all those years ago made his heart race and his throat constrict. And before he knew it, he was blurting out the last thing he expected to tell her.

"I had a ring."

Natasha furrowed her brow in bewilderment until Clint's confession hit her like a ton of bricks in the chest. Her jaw fell open and a gasp escaped her full lips.

"I took it with me on the mission," Clint continued. "That's why I wanted you to be there when I got back. I was going to propose to you." Clint paused, taking a deep breathing and hoping for a response from the red head in his arms. Instead, she merely stared at him in awe. "But I lost it," he continued with a sigh. "HYDRA must have taken it or something. It's a shame because it was a really nice - ."

_Smack!_

Natasha's open palm glided across Clint's cheek, sending a stinging sensation through his skin. The red head climbed on top of the archer and pinned him to the bed. "_What the fuck is wrong with you!?_" she screeched.

"Natasha, I'm sorry – ."

"Who the hell waits to propose to their girlfriend _after_ a mission?" she questioned. "It wasn't even a big mission, Clint. It was a simple mission. What was so special about the mission?"

"Nothing," Clint choked out.

"You're an idiot," she spat with a devilish yet playful smirk.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Clint choked out.

"_It seemed like a good idea at the time_," she mocked. "You're an idiot."

"You said that already." The archer smirked at the red headed assassin before flipping her onto her back, straddling her hips, pinning her to the bed. He ran his hands up her arms and pinned them to the headboard above her head. "It was a really nice ring," Clint continued, slowly leaning forward to the point that his lips were inches from Natasha's. "It was on a white gold band with a diamond in the center, flanked by an emerald on each side. You would've liked it."

The corners of Natasha's lips twitched upwards into a soft smile. "It sounds like it was made for me."

"Well, yeah," Clint responded. "I had it specially designed for you."

Natasha's full lips parted as the grin on her face spread further. "And what makes you think I would've said yes?"

"Why, my good looks and boyish charm," the archer answered proudly.

The female assassin scoffed. "Keep dreaming, Barton." Caught off guard, Natasha overpowered Clint, flipping him onto his back again and pinning him to the bed. She straddled his hips as her naked body towered over the archer. "I need to figure something out. I need to talk to James," the red head added.

Reaching up, Clint tucked a red curl behind Natasha's ear. His fingers brushed over her soft, porcelain skin before dropping his arm to his side. Clint sighed as he remembered Barnes would be returning soon. Their alone time together was limited and Clint didn't want it to end.

Suddenly, Natasha rolled off of Clint's body and jumped off of the bed. She bent at the waist and grabbed her clothes from the night before, pulling them onto her bare body. Clint watched her dress in silence until she was fully clothed. She ran her fingers through her red curls, fluffing them up, and then turned around to face Clint.

"I'll be back sometime," she said softly, leaning in to peck Clint on the lips. Her hand caressed the side his face, brushing over the rough stubble that was beginning to form. "I'll figure something out. I promise."

Clint nodded but he was cut off when Natasha pressed her lips to his once again. Only this time, there was more power, more thought behind it. Their lips molded to one another as if no time had passed. And before he knew it, his Russian assassin was gone, slipping through the bedroom door with a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

* * *

The archer lied in bed for a few more minutes after Natasha's departure before climbing out and heading to the bathroom for a shower. He quickly scrubbed his body clean of the sweat and grime from his romp with Natasha and then rinsed off before stepping out of the shower to towel off. Securing the towel around his waist, Clint traipsed into his bedroom to get dressed for the day. He dressed in a haze, pulling his clothes on haphazardly and then running a towel through his damp hair. When he was finished, he tossed his wet towel in the laundry basket on his way out the door.

The apartment felt strangely empty without Natasha, which was bizarre since he was the only person who typically lived in the apartment anyways. It wasn't like they were cohabitating like before his captivity. But her presence since last night had been overwhelming, almost as if she'd finally come home after an extremely long mission. Now her absence was putting Clint into a mood.

Clint reached the kitchen, flicking on the light as he walked past the switch. The light bounced off of the chrome appliances, making the room seem brighter than it naturally was. Padding across the tiled floor, Clint made a bee-line for the coffee maker. As he dumped the proper amount of ingredients into the appliance, JARVIS piped up.

"Mr. Barton," the A.I. stated. "My apologies for the interruption, but Mr. Stark has requested your presence this evening for his and Ms. Potts' engagement dinner."

Hanging his head, Clint sighed in defeat. This could be another one of Tony's plans to get Clint and Natasha back together, or this could be a legitimate engagement dinner. However, Clint knew he should agree to be there either way. It was better than being dragged there by Tony later on, kicking and screaming.

"Yes, JARVIS," Clint sighed. "I'll be there."

"Splendid, Mr. Barton. I will inform Mr. Stark. The dinner begins at eight," JARVIS responded affirmatively before the apartment was plunged into silence.

The remainder of the day was a haze for Clint. He expected to be called into the SHIELD base since he'd passed his psych evaluation. He was willing to do anything, file documents, train recruits, or polish all the weapons in the training room. Anything would be better than just sitting around and staring at the TV all day. But alas, no call came, so he spent his day in front of the TV nonetheless.

When seven o'clock rolled around, Clint traipsed back to his bedroom to get ready for the engagement dinner. He wished he could attend the dinner in just his jeans and t-shirt but he knew Tony would send him back to change the moment he stepped off the elevator. It was better to get dressed up now rather than later.

Stripping himself bare, he dressed in a pair of black dress pants and a dark blue button-down shirt. He buttoned his shirt, tucked it in, and then weaved his belt through the loops on his pants. As much as he hated it, wearing a tie was probably a smart idea. He plucked a simple black tie from his dresser and neatly secured it around his neck. He adjusted his collar and the cuffs of his shirt, and then all that was left was to brush his teeth and comb his hair.

He finished about 15 minutes before the dinner was due to start so Clint figured he should head upstairs. He pressed the button to call the elevator and he paced in front of the doors as he waited for its arrival. After several minutes, the elevator arrived, its silver doors sliding open to reveal its vacant interior. Clint stepped in, pressed the button for the penthouse, and the doors slid shut.

Typically a long ride, the elevator reached the penthouse in no time, coming to a screeching halt before opening its doors to reveal the posh penthouse that was home to Tony and Pepper. It seemed that Clint was the last to arrive for most of his teammates were already mingling in the penthouse with drinks in hand. Steve and Sharon were deep in conversation with Rhodes while Thor was picking at the hors d'oeuvres. Jane and Betty Ross, whom Clint was surprised to see since Bruce chose to keep his distance, were engaged in an animated conversation that Clint guessed to be about some complex science material he didn't understand. Seated in the corner were Bruce and Happy, both looking out of place and sipping on glasses of lemonade.

Clint eyes scanned the room until they fell on the couple dressed in black near the fireplace. She was dressed in a skin tight satin bustier dress that pushed her ample breasts up to their fullest volume. Her hair hung in loose curls that cascaded past her shoulders in a blood red waterfall. She wore a pair of sky high black heels that accentuated the muscles in her thighs and calves while the dark fabric of her dress silhouetted every curve on her body.

Clint watched as words tumbled from her full lips as she spoke to Barnes. Those full red lips had been on his just hours earlier that day and it sickened him to think that they had possibly been on Barnes' recently.

Fueled with hatred, Clint took one step towards the couple before his path was intercepted by none other than Tony Stark. "Katniss, so glad you could make it!" the billionaire slurred. The dinner hadn't even started and he was already wasted. Classic Tony.

Almost as if she could sense Clint's uneasiness, Pepper appeared at Tony's side and placed a hand on his arm to steady him. "Clint, it's great to see you," Pepper said sweetly. "And congratulations on passing your psych evaluation!"

"Oh yeah, uh, thanks Pepper," Clint mumbled.

"You must feel so relieved. And so happy that you can go back into the field," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, it's great," Clint grunted. "I'd really like a mission or something to do on base but I guess most of the work has been assigned for the week."

"Something's bound to pop up," Pepper said encouragingly.

Clint nodded in response but didn't say a word.

"Well," Pepper sighed as she steadied Tony with both hands. "Help yourself to some champagne or wine or whatever. The caterers should be ready with dinner shortly." Gently, Pepper turned Tony around and helped him down the hall so he could sober up before dinner.

So he could blend in, Clint headed to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He set the bottle of liquor back down on the counter and took a long swig of the strong alcohol. His throat burned as the golden liquor slid downwards, working its way to his empty stomach.

"Clint!"

Clint turned away from the bar to see Sharon flagging him down from her spot next to Steve on the couch. He waved back feebly and then grabbed his tumbler from the bar before making his way across the room to join them. He flopped down on the couch, successfully not spilling a drop of his alcohol, and then smiled weakly at Steve and Sharon.

"Congrats on passing your psych evaluation," Sharon said enthusiastically as she patted Clint's knee. "I guess I'll be seeing you on base pretty often now."

Clint shrugged his shoulders as he swirled his drink around in his glass. "Yeah, I hope so."

"What's wrong?" she asked, furrowing her brow in concern.

The archer sighed. He'd met Sharon before, but he hardly knew her. He didn't exactly want to burden her with his problems. But, he supposed, since she was asking, he might as well.

"I just hoped I'd get something right away. I'm going mad in my apartment and going through the same routine everyday is getting a little old," Clint said sullenly.

"Oh, well, I'll see what Fury has," Sharon said thoughtfully. "Maybe I can pull some strings and get you back into the field sooner than you think." The blonde smiled warmly at the archer and Clint couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks Sharon," he said graciously. "That means a lot."

"You shouldn't worry so much, Clint," Steve chimed in from Sharon's other side. "Fury's probably saving something good for you."

Clint chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right," he grinned. "I don't think he'd want to start me off easy."

The trio laughed just as Tony stumbled back into the living room with Pepper on his heels. He looked better than when Clint arrived, but drinking more wouldn't be very advisable. Pepper reached his side, a washcloth in her hand, and she dabbed away at the corner of Tony's mouth before he swatted her hand away. Giving up, Pepper shoved Tony playfully before retreating down the hall to be rid of the washcloth. She returned moments later, taking her place at Tony's side and looping her arm through his.

Loudly clearing her throat, a hushed silence fell throughout the room as everyone's attention diverted to Pepper and Tony. Pepper put on her best smile while Tony hid behind a pair of dark designer sunglasses despite being indoors.

"Dinner's ready," Pepper announced. "We can head into the dining room."

Everyone started to flock towards the dining room but Barnes interrupted by clearing his own throat loudly. "If you don't mind," Barnes announced. "I have something to say."

The group stopped in their tracks and turned their attention towards Barnes. He was clutching a glass of blood red wine while Natasha was frozen in her tracks several feet ahead of him, a glass of Russian standard vodka in her hand. The red head tilted her head to the side, confused by his sudden interruption, but Barnes merely gestured for her to join his side. Natasha obliged, closing the space between them before being pulled into the former brainwashed assassin's side.

Clint could feel bile rising up in his throat as he watched Barnes rub a hand up and down Natasha's bare arm. But he couldn't lose his cool. Natasha said she would figure something out so he had to give her time before he lost his marbles over Barnes touching her.

"Tony, Pepper," Barnes started with a grin. "First off, I want to congratulate you two on your engagement. I haven't known you for long, but I can see the immense amount of love between the two of you and I wish you eternal happiness."

Barnes' lame speech elicited an eye roll from Clint. He didn't buy any of this bullshit. Barnes was just trying to win more of everyone's trust. But not Clint; he would never win Clint's trust.

"All of you have been so welcoming and so kind," Barnes continued. "I just want to thank you all so much for being somewhat of a family to me."

_Give me a break_, Clint thought smugly.

Then, Barnes turned to Natasha and the red head offered up a fake smile for the former brainwashed assassin. Clint noticed the whiteness of her nails as she tightly gripped the glass in her hand. It was almost as if she was afraid of where Barnes was taking this little monologue.

"And I'm really happy that you were gracious enough to welcome me back into your life, Natalia," Barnes said softly, practically batting his eyelashes at her.

_Barf_, Clint thought as Barnes used Natasha's real name.

Barnes turned back to his audience, zeroing in on Pepper and Tony. "You two have inspired me when it comes to Natasha. Your love for one another has inspired me to make a meaningful decision of my own."

He placed his glass of wine on the mantle before turning to face Natasha. Her grip on her glass had grown tighter throughout Barnes' speech and Clint saw her spine grow rigid the moment Barnes turned to face her. Clint's eyes were locked on Natasha but from his peripheral vision, he saw Barnes reach into his jacket pocket, producing a black velvet box, a box small enough for a ring.

"What are you doing?" Natasha whispered.

"Natalia," Barnes said lowly. Their eyes locked on one another, green eyes staring into dark brown, before Barnes lowered down to one knee. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Clint's hearing faded out and his head was swimming at Barnes proposal. He didn't hear an answer; he didn't hear the reactions from any of the engagement party guests. The next thing Clint knew, his gaze was zeroing in on the ring nestled between the silk fabrics of the ring box. Positioned there in all of its glory was the ring Clint had bought for Natasha.

And then he stormed out.

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**Uh oh, shit just got REAL! What a bullshitter that Bucky Barnes is. You know I have a knack for twists and turns so this is just the beginning. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! I _definitely_ want to know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 13

**Hey everyone! I had hoped to have this posted on Friday, but my motivation sucked so it is obviously two days late. Anyways, last chapter, there were 28 reviews! Holy crap, like seriously you guys, you're awesome. Keep them coming. Though in comparison to last chapter, this one is going to seem very bland. I hope you like it anyways. Enjoy!**

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_Motherfucking douche, dick, asshole, son of a bitch. What the fucking hell!?_ Clint thought angrily as he paced a small section of the roof of Avengers Tower. It had been at least ten minutes since he stormed out of the penthouse following Barnes' proposal and no one had come looking for him, not even Natasha. He was beginning to think their rekindled romance was all a set up by the red headed assassin just so she could knock him down again.

The archer continued pacing, ignoring the arrival of the elevator. While he did want to talk to someone, he wasn't quite sure now was the time. His anger was getting the best of him and he wasn't quite sure how he would react the moment his visitor approached him.

"Clint?"

Stopping dead in his tracks, pacing forgotten, Clint stiffened at the sound of her voice. Of all the people to come find him, it had to be _her_. She was the last person he wanted to see right now and he certainly didn't want to talk to her. And yet, he found himself spinning around wildly, eyes burning with fury.

"What!?" he growled at her.

Natasha Romanoff, the famed Black Widow, flinched at Clint's outburst. She shrunk away from the archer; it was at that moment Clint realized how close she had come to him. The sadness in her eyes was apparent at Clint's outburst while it seemed that a frown was going to be permanently etched upon her face. Clint felt guilty for snapping at her, but he had to remind himself as to why he was angry with her.

He stepped forward and Natasha instinctively stepped back. "Yeah, you _should_ be afraid," Clint drawled. "You _know_ you're in a shit load of trouble."

"How the fuck was I supposed to know he'd pull out a ring?" Natasha exclaimed, waving her arms around ferociously. "How the fuck was I supposed to know he'd pull out _your_ ring?"

"Because he's untrustworthy, Natasha!" Clint shouted. "If that's not enough proof, then I don't know what is!"

Natasha shrunk away from Clint once again, looking like a little kid being scolded by its parents. Clint had never seen Natasha act this way before; he'd never seen her so afraid.

"He's different, Clint," Natasha spoke softly.

Clint threw his head. "For fuck's sake, Natasha, would you listen to yourself!? Has he brainwashed you too?"

"What has he done wrong besides take your ring and use it to propose to me? It's not like he knew it was your ring!"

"Hmmm, yeah, he knew it was my ring," Clint shot back, a smug pout plastered on his face. "He knew I was looking for it. He probably had it on him when I asked him if he'd seen it!"

Natasha's mouth dropped open, only for her to close it again. There was no way she could come up with a rebuttal in this situation; Barnes was very clearly at fault here. So Clint stood waiting, his arms folded across his chest and a cold glare aimed at Natasha's direction.

"He must know something," Natasha whispered, dropping her gaze to the floor. She shifted her feet uncomfortably, from right to left, before looking back up at Clint. "He has to know about us."

"Can you forget about us for a second and look at the bigger picture here?" Clint inquired with a snarl. "He's a liar and he's probably been playing you from the start." Natasha opened her mouth to say something, but Clint just continued, plowing through. "Someone doesn't just turn their training off automatically, Natasha. It took you _years_ to warm up to me, and even then you still hated my guts. He's playing you. He's playing all of us!"

Natasha stared back at him, unsure of what to say. She knew that he was right; Barnes clearly wasn't the man he said he was. But basing it off of the fact that he had the ring Clint was going to give to her, what else was he guilty of?

"That very well may be," Natasha said hesitantly, "but we can't just go up to him with guns blazing and interrogate him."

"Watch me," Clint mumbled to himself. However, the archer knew better than to say something to himself; Natasha would always catch it.

"Don't you dare, Barton," she snapped icily with a dispassionate glare.

Clint rolled his eyes, displeased with Natasha's response. "So what do we do then? Go about our business as usual?"

"I suppose," she sighed with a shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe we shouldn't hang out as often. And if we do, let's not do it at three in the morning."

With another eye roll and a shake of his head, Clint said, "This is fucking ridiculous. We're seriously going to do _nothing_ about this."

"I'll handle it!" Natasha snapped. "Just stay out of it."

Without another word to Clint, the red head turned on her heel and marched back to the elevator. The archer watched as she walked with determination, her head held high and her heels clacking with every step. She'd reached the elevator and pressed the button when something popped into Clint's head.

"What did you say to him?" he blurted out.

At first, Natasha didn't turn around; her eyes stayed focused on the elevator doors. But then, the faintest murmur floated over to Clint. He barely heard it at first. But once he drowned out all the other city noises, he heard it clear as day.

"I told him no."

Then, the elevator pinged, signaling the arrival of the chrome carriage. The silver doors slid open and the red headed assassin immediately stepped on, never glancing back at Clint. Her gaze was cast downward as the doors slid shut, leaving Clint alone on the roof to wonder what the hell was really going on.

* * *

He didn't return to the engagement dinner. He didn't contact any of his teammates for days. He advised JARVIS to prohibit visitors from coming into his apartment, including Tony. In the event of an absolute emergency or a SHIELD mission, only then would he allow visitors in the apartment. Otherwise, visitors were not allowed in Clint's apartment.

Sleep became an enigma for Clint. It wasn't that he wasn't tired because yawning every three seconds definitely meant he was tired. No, his mind had been racing since the night of the engagement party. Natasha had been very clear that Barnes knew something was going on between them; so why did she decline his proposal? Obviously it would raise a red flag; she of all people should know that. Or had she simply not been thinking when she declined?

There had been many times when JARVIS interrupted the deafening silence in Clint's apartment to inform him that Natasha was demanding to see him. Despite simply being a computer, JARVIS seemed concerned for the assassins' relationship. Many times he had informed Clint that Natasha was begging and nearly swayed Clint's decision to let her in. But Clint didn't budge. She said they needed to stay away from one another and that was just what they were going to do.

It was on day four when Clint realized what he was doing was unhealthy. He had been acting like he'd lost a loved one, which was strange because the only person he loved was Natasha and she was still alive. Displeased with his behavior, he traipsed to the bathroom to take a shower; he hadn't had one since the night of the engagement party.

But right as he stepped foot into the porcelain room, JARVIS' voice piped up over the sound system.

"So sorry to interrupt Mr. Barton," the A.I. said apologetically, "but Director Fury is here to see you, along with Agent Carter. Director Fury says it is regarding crucial SHIELD matters."

Suddenly, Clint's heart began to race out of excitement. This was the moment. He hoped this was the moment he would be thrust back into the field.

"Yes!" Clint exclaimed in celebration. "Send them up JARVIS."

"Certainly Mr. Barton," replied JARVIS affirmatively.

Quickly, Clint sprinted across the room and shucked the crusty clothes from his body in exchange for a clean ensemble. He stumbled into his jeans, fumbling with the button, before hastily pulling on his t-shirt. From down the hall, he heard the elevator ping and he rushed out of the bedroom to greet his guests.

The elevator doors were just opening as he made it to the living room. Director Fury stepped out of the elevator first, clad in all black, his black trench coat billowing behind him. Sharon Carter stepped out behind him, dressed in her SHIELD uniform, one very similar to Natasha's with the exception of the dark blue color.

"Good afternoon, Director," the archer greeted with a grunt. "Agent Carter," he added with a nod in the blonde's direction.

"Agent Barton," boomed Fury, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled further into the room. Sharon stayed rooted in her spot in front of the elevators, her arms folded over her chest. "I have been informed that you have not been in contact with the rest of the residents of this complex. Is that correct?"

A morbid feeling washed over him, so Clint wondered if he was in trouble. Was his lack of communication with his teammates affecting his status at SHIELD? Was Fury here to terminate his position at SHIELD?

"Y-yes, sir," Clint stuttered.

"Therefore, I would assume, you have not been informed of the recent developments on the HYDRA front," Fury stated, turning on his heel to stare at Clint with his one eye.

Clint swallowed heavily. "No, I have not been informed."

Fury nodded and then turned to Sharon, who was still standing in front of the elevator, quiet as a mouse. "Agent Carter, would you care to do the honors?" Fury questioned.

The blonde nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down. She stepped forward and then produced an iPhone from the belt cinched around her waist. Her fingers tapped the screen at lightning speed before graphics were projected into thin air.

In front of Clint, several SHIELD files and graphics were displayed. He could only pick out tidbits of information among the hundreds of files, but words such as "base," "Extremis," and "testing" stood out. The photos flashed in front of his eyes in an array of colors and shapes. Some of them were of missions that Clint wasn't familiar with; others were photos of missions Clint had taken part in, including his rescue mission.

"HYDRA has been acting up recently," Sharon interjected, her voice cutting through Clint's thoughts like a knife slicing through softened butter. "They went M.I.A. when we rescued you but in the past couple days, they've been active."

Sharon stepped forward and rearranged the floating graphics as if they were simply pieces of paper strewn about a tabletop. The graphics complied, moving with ease as Sharon rearranged them to her liking. When all but one was piled on top of one another, the blonde SHIELD agent turned back to Clint. "We've narrowed it down to three bases that they could possibly be working out of since these are the three bases with the most activity as of recently: Auckland, Kiev, and Toronto."

"Agent Barnes was on surveillance the week of your psych evaluation to determine which bases were most active," Fury chimed in, stepping forward as if to worm his way back into the conversation. "These are his findings."

Fury and Sharon stayed silent for a couple seconds so Clint could absorb the information that had been presented to him. Clint studied the single file floating in mid air. It showed brief details of each HYDRA base: statistics, location, and the like.

"We think they're planning something," Fury continued, interrupting Clint's thoughts, "so we need you to be on alert in case there's an attack. We need all of the Avengers, and some SHIELD agents – including Sharon here – on standby."

Clint nodded animatedly, biting the inside of his cheek to contain his grin. "Yes, absolutely, sir."

"Great," the director deadpanned before sidling up to Sharon's side. The blonde closed out the file on her phone, causing the floating graphics to disappear into thin air. She reattached the phone to her belt before turning her attention back to Fury and Clint.

"We need you to be ready at moment's notice, Barton," Fury said. "So I suggest you get your ass to the gym and start communicating with your teammates again."

Without a stone cold glare from his one eye, Fury marched past Clint and Sharon and pressed the button to call the elevator. Immediately, the silver carriage's doors slid open and Fury stepped in, his black trench coat flapping behind him. On his heels, Sharon piled in as well, offering up a discreet wave to Clint as a means of saying goodbye. Within seconds, the chrome doors slid shut, leaving Clint alone in his empty, posh apartment once again.

After a few minutes had passed, Clint realized that he was thoroughly disappointed with Fury's visit. As excited as he was to hear that they were tracking HYDRA, immediate action was not the case. Fury wanted him to be ready at moment's notice, but if that moment would ever come, Clint was not sure. His excitement went as quickly as it came. So he collapsed onto the sofa, turned on the TV and resorted to watching another rerun of _Lost_ for the sake of his sanity.

* * *

**Uh oh, what's going on with HYDRA? What do you think they're up to? And do you think Barnes knows something? He had been gone for a week when everything between Clint and Natasha went down after all. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	15. Chapter 14

**So sorry for the delay once again. I didn't really intend for this story to take the whole summer but I guess it seems like I'll (hopefully) finish this just before I go back to school. Emphasis on the hopefully. Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!**

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_Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!_

His bare fist hit the punching bag with much force, causing the heavy object to swing backwards just before the next strike. It had been two days since Fury's visit to inform him of HYDRA's activity and Clint had been spending as much time in the gym as possible, physically preparing himself for the possible mission that was to come.

After Fury had left that day, Clint had grappled with the thought that he finally had to come out of hiding and communicate with his teammates. Everyone knew that Clint was still in love with Natasha, there was no question about that. It would explain his sudden departure from the engagement party that night. But Clint and Natasha – and possibly Barnes – were the only ones who really knew what was going on between them. As long as Natasha wasn't around, facing his teammates wouldn't be a difficult task.

Luckily, Natasha wasn't around when he had headed up to Stark penthouse to meet with his teammates. He had ridden the elevator, dreading the encounter. In the end, it was far worse than he'd expected it to be. The moment he'd stepped off of the elevator, Tony bombarded him with questions. As Tony rambled on and on, Clint glanced past the billionaire, in hopes of finding some reinforcements. Instead, he found the rest of his teammates – sans Natasha – seated on the plush living room furniture, shaking their heads in embarrassment at Tony's behavior.

Once Tony had calmed himself down, the Avengers congregated in the living room and began to strategize. Before Clint's captivity, Tony had a whole plan set in the event of the Avengers being needed at a moment's notice. An emergency Quinjet was nestled deep within Avengers Tower while each apartment had special safes to house each Avenger's weapons and gear. JARVIS was set to inform each Avenger in the tower the moment Fury needed them. In the event of them being out of the tower, JARVIS was wired to their phones as well. In the event that Thor was on Asgard, JARVIS would inform Jane Foster, who would then send a message to him.

Everything was still the same, Clint had learned. Once Clint had gotten his gear back, he locked it into the safe in his apartment and JARVIS had been wired to his phone the moment he moved back into the tower. The only plan that needed to be set into place was the Avengers' teamwork, and that was definitely going to take some work.

In the meantime, Clint was biding his time in the gym, getting his strength and stamina up in the event of HYDRA acting up. It wasn't that Clint was out of shape; it was far from that. The archer simply needed to feel motivated and driven. A work out in the gym for hours on end was the only way to feel like that.

He'd been in the gym for about four hours, moving from the various pieces of exercise equipment provided by Stark. After a half hour, the archer would grow bored with his routine, moving onto the next piece of equipment that could engage his attention. This pattern went on for four hours up until now as he bided his time with the punching bag. His fists hit the cloth forcefully in a rhythmic pattern, causing the heavy bag to swing back and forth.

Clint hadn't even heard the door to the gym open, too busy with his work-out routine. But he would always be attuned to her, no matter how hard he tried not to be.

"What?" he growled, keeping his body facing the punching bag. Sweat dripped down his neck and soaked into his t-shirt. His muscles quivered from head-to-toe and his vision was starting to blur from the lack of water he'd been supplying his body. But he wasn't going to quit, not this early in the day.

There was silence from behind him and Clint wondered if he'd been hearing things. Maybe she wasn't actually there like he'd suspected. But then, he heard her faintly clear her throat. "You should take a break."

Clint stopped striking the punching bag, stopping it with his hands when it came swinging back towards him. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much," he shot back. He considered Natasha's words; maybe it was time for him to take a break. He was starting to feel lightheaded and his mouth was dry.

He pushed away from the punching bag and walked over to his duffle bag on the wooden bench in the corner. Not once did he lock eyes with the red headed assassin in the room with him; he wasn't quite sure he was ready for that. He produced his water bottle from the bag and took a long swig, the formerly ice cold water now an insufferable warm temperature. But, it was refreshing anyway.

"Clint, I know you're mad," Natasha murmured.

"Mad?" he scoffed as he dropped his water bottle back into his bag. He spun around, his eyes full of rage. "Why would I be mad?" His question was dripping with sarcasm.

Natasha's brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm really not sure why you're mad," she snapped. "It was a simple plan. We stay away from each other unless necessary so that James doesn't suspect anything."

"So then why are you here?" Clint snarled.

"I wanted to see if you were okay," the red head mumbled, dropping her head in shame.

"I'm just peachy, thanks," he snapped.

"You know what, Clint," she said sternly, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm really starting to wonder if _you're_ the bi-polar one."

"Huh?"

One of Natasha's eyebrows arched upwards. "Really, Clint? Yeah, it took me a bit to warm up to you again, but Jesus Chris, you're fucking pouting that we can't hang out because James is suspicious."

"He already knows something!" Clint exclaimed, waving his arms about. "We're already in deep shit so why not keep hanging out?"

"You mean fooling around," Natasha corrected.

Clint shook his head. He really didn't want to do this right now. Getting ready for HYDRA was more important, but getting rid of Natasha was going to be hard. The woman was persistent and he knew she wouldn't leave until she got what she wanted.

"Romanoff, I'm really not in the mood," the archer growled. He turned away from the female assassin and started to walk back to the punching bag. He was halfway there when she said it.

"I love you, Clint."

The archer stopped dead in his tracks. Had he heard her correctly? Was he hearing things? He spun around to find the red headed assassin planted firmly in her spot, staring back at Clint in shock. It was almost as if she could barely believe that she'd said it.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

"I-I love you, Clint," she said hesitantly. "You haven't heard that in three years but I never stopped loving you and I never will."

She sucked in a deep breath and that's when Clint realized she was breathing heavily, like she just ran a 10k. Every breath she drew in was shaky and ragged, but her wide eyes stayed focused on Clint.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She turned on her heel and walked briskly towards the entrance of the gym. But Clint wasn't letting that happen. In several long strides, he caught up with Natasha and spun her around. Her red curls fanned out from her head, spinning out like a fiery halo. Her green eyes immediately connected with Clint's. Initially full of fury, they softened the moment Clint leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

Just like the kiss in the kitchen, their lips molded to one another, as if time hadn't even passed. Clint's arms snaked around the female assassin's tiny waist while Natasha locked her arms around Clint's neck. Their bodies fused together, chest-to-chest.

As the kiss deepened, so did the aggressiveness. Clint and Natasha found themselves stumbling backwards until they toppled onto a pile of mats in a tangle of limbs. While Clint was on top, Natasha was somehow the dominant one. Her fingers tangled into his hair, pulling aggressively, while her other hand dug into his back, most likely leaving nail marks.

They continued to writhe around on top of the mats until an ear-splitting screech caused them to jump apart. Clint toppled off of Natasha to cover his ears while the red head sat up and squeezed her head with both heads.

"What's going on!?" Clint shouted over the piercing screech.

As if JARVIS heard him, his voice sounded over the obnoxious noise. "Security breach. Main level, proceeding up the elevator. Security breach…"

JARVIS continued to repeat the details over the obnoxious alarm while Clint and Natasha stayed frozen in the gym, their hands pressed over their ears.

"Clint, go! We need to find the others!" Natasha shouted over the alarm.

"What!?"

"Go! Go! Go!" she shouted again, gesturing towards the gym doors. Clint nodded hastily and scrambled to his feet. He sprinted to the gym doors with Natasha on his heels. They burst through the doors and made it to the elevators. Clint anxiously pressed the button to call the elevator and the doors slid open immediately to reveal an empty interior. The two assassins stumbled onto the carriage and the chrome doors slid shut.

As the elevator began its ascent to Clint's apartment, they noticed the alarm was somewhat muffled, but still pretty loud. An emergency light flashed intermittently in the elevator, causing it to mess with Clint and Natasha's vision.

Finally, the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal Clint's apartment. The emergency lights were flashing within his apartment as well and the alarm was still blaring. The archer took the first step into the apartment, but he didn't make it far. A blow to the temple caused him to topple to the floor. His head was woozy and his thoughts were fuzzy. He heard a distinct female scream – Natasha. It clicked that she was in trouble and he struggled to get to his feet but another blow to the head caused him to lose consciousness, submerging him into the abyss.

* * *

**Uh oh, what have I done? Who's broken into Avengers Tower? And why? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Sooooooooo sorry for the delay again! I hope you guys forgive me. I hope you like this chapter. Enjoy!**

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When Clint came to, there was an aching throb in his temple, right where he'd been struck before losing consciousness. He let out a pained grunt as he lifted his head; his vision blurred as the blood started to flow properly throughout his brain. As he tried to move to get more comfortable, he found his arms tied behind him, his body bound to the chair he sat in.

_Of course_, Clint thought morbidly. _It's always a chair._

His vision came back into focus and he found that he was still in his apartment. All of the lights were off, making even the darkest of corners of the apartment an abyss. His back was to the fireplace so that he was facing the set of elevator doors. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair to find that not only were his hands bound to the chair, but his feet were as well.

From his left, a pained moan cut through the darkness. Clint whipped his head to the side and squinted through the dark. Bound to a chair as well was Natasha. He could barely make out her silhouette in the poor lighting but her vibrant red hair stuck out like a sore thumb. She let out another anguished moan and Clint could barely find his voice to ask her if she was okay. He had no idea as to what happened and what they had done to her while he was unconscious. The thought of it made his blood boil.

Then, he heard her say his name. It was barely a whisper and her voice cracked at the end, but Clint heard it. Her voice was pained and weak, as if they'd done something vile to her.

"Tasha, hey Tasha, keep talking to me okay?" Clint choked out, his own voice rough from lack of use. It had been a while since he'd used the nicknames he'd so often called her before his captivity but they rolled off his tongue naturally. And given the circumstances, it seemed appropriate to calm her down by calling her something so comforting.

A whimper escaped Natasha's lips, followed by a choked sob. "I'm sorry."

"Nat, it's fine," Clint said softly, shushing her as another sob escaped her throat. "We're fine. We're going to be fine."

"I didn't believe you," she sobbed. "I _should've_ believed you."

That's when it struck him. _Barnes_. Barnes was behind all of this. If he physically could, he'd jump up and click his heels together. He'd been right all along about the former brainwashed assassin and now, they were all going to suffer the consequences of letting this madman into Avengers Tower.

"Natasha," Clint whispered. "Barnes. This was all Barnes?"

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

Clint snapped his head in the direction of the deep voice. A dark silhouette appeared in the doorway of the elevator, the light behind the tall figure shrouding him in darkness. But it didn't take a genius for Clint and Natasha to figure out that this was Barnes. Even in the faint elevator light, they could see he was dressed in black tactical gear from head to toe. A machine gun was clenched in his right hand while his bionic arm hung limply at his side.

Ominously, he took a step into the apartment, allowing the elevator doors to slide shut behind him. In the darkness, Clint and Natasha could hear his heavy footsteps growing closer and closer until a light flicked on. The golden light flooded the room and Clint and Natasha flinched, squeezing their eyes shut. When they opened their eyes, Barnes was seated on Clint's plush white couch, staring down Clint.

"I'm sorry I had to restrain you, Natalia," Barnes finally said, his gaze still locked on Clint. "I can't play favorites in this situation."

Natasha mumbled angry Russian curse words under her breath. Clint barely caught them before Barnes reached out and smacked Natasha across the cheek. The red-headed assassin yelped, her red curls falling across her face.

"Like I said," Barnes drawled as Natasha lifted her head, "I can't play favorites."

By this time, Clint was seething. Not only did Barnes have him prisoner in his own goddamn apartment, but he was abusing Natasha right in front of him. The moment he got himself free, he was going to wring Barnes' neck.

The brainwashed assassin made himself at home, sprawling out on the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. Bits of dried mud fell onto the tabletop and Clint clenched his fists in anger. He was really fond of that coffee table. Yet another reason to wring Barnes' neck.

"Natalia," he drawled as he set his machine gun on the couch next to him, "I'm appalled you never figured me out. Did the Red Room teach you nothing?"

Clint didn't need to turn to Natasha to know that she was visibly seething. The anger practically radiated off of her body. It seemed to Clint that Natasha really didn't know about Barnes. How she was unaware of it, Clint wasn't sure. But judging how things were going right now, Natasha was completely in the dark.

"SHIELD changed you, Natalia," Barnes droned. "Or I suppose I should say that _this one_ changed you." Barnes jerked a thumb in Clint's direction and the archer wished he could grab it and snap it in two.

"Who are you working for, Barnes?" Natasha spat.

"Darling, it's really a shame that you haven't figured it out," Barnes crooned with a mischievous smirk on his face. "I'm responsible for your hawk's disappearance in the first place."

Clint's jaw dropped. And even though he couldn't see Natasha, he was almost positive she did the same.

"You see, I'd heard you'd gone soft," Barnes continued. "And after seeing the footage of you and Hawkeye during the Battle of New York, there was no doubt in my mind that you'd gone soft because of _him_."

At this point, Barnes had risen from the couch and started to stroll around the room. He circled the two SHIELD assassins like a shark circling its prey. Being bound to their chairs left limited moving room so the assassins couldn't see where Barnes was or what he was doing.

"I had to remind you what the Red Room taught you," Barnes droned on as he strolled about the room. Clint noticed him out of the corner of his eye, admiring a random decorative vase that came with the apartment. "I'd already been working with HYDRA to keep the Red Room's name alive so I enlisted their help."

"You're a fucking monster," Natasha spat, her bottom lip quivering out of anxiety.

"_I am not a monster!_" The vase shattered into a million pieces against the wall on the other side of the room. Barnes' boot-clad feet stomped across the room before bracing his hands on either side of Natasha's chair. His face was in hers; his hair framed his face. "_You're_ the monster. I don't even know who you are anymore!"

"_You kidnapped my boyfriend!_"

"_I did it for _you_!_"

Their screams echoed throughout the empty apartment, bouncing off the walls and traveling down the vacant hallway. Clint watched as the two Red Room alums stared one another down. Their icy glares bore into one another's eyes until Barnes gave up, pushing away from Natasha's chair. He rounded the coffee table and flopped down on the couch once again. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.

"He's not _good_ for you, Natalia," Barnes continued, calmly this time around. "So, I did you a favor. I removed him from the equation. HYDRA did me a favor so that I could come back into your life."

"You're insane," Natasha hissed.

"I'm not finished," Barnes hissed through clenched teeth. "And I did, I won you back all over again. Then SHIELD had to intervene and send Stark and Rogers to that base in Iran. But I played coy and tried to win Barton's trust when he came back.

"But I knew it wouldn't work. The moment he came back, you went running back to him. You wanted to stay with me because it was morally right, but you couldn't. I knew about you two sneaking around. Do you take me to be a fool, Natalia? We were trained by the same organization. I can see through your façade. I can see through your act."

The assassin paused and Clint could sense the anger radiating off of Natasha's body again. It was practically palpable. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her jaw was locked and she had an intense glare fixed upon her face.

"You see," Barnes said, turning to Clint, "I took the ring and proposed to Natalia to see what _you_ would do. And when you stormed out of the engagement dinner that night, I knew it was time to make my move, to bring HYDRA in and destroy not only you two, but the Avengers as well."

"_What did you do to them?_" Natasha hissed angrily.

"Now, now, Natalia, no need to get all fussy," Barnes scolded calmly. "The Avengers can't function without Barton and you can't function without him. So, it seems that the only way to destroy both your relationship and the Avengers is to eliminate the hawk."

Natasha squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "No," she muttered under her breath.

"No?" Barnes taunted before nodding his head. "Yes, darling."

Natasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Take me."

"Nat, no!"

"Take me instead," Natasha pleaded, ignoring Clint's interruption. "Why does it have to be him? You kill two birds with one stone. Not only do you end our relationship and sabotage the Avengers, but you get me to yourself. We can go back to the way we were, before I joined SHIELD."

Barnes leaned back on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table once more. He stroked his chin, brushing his fingers against the light stubble growing, pondering Natasha's proposition. Suddenly, Barnes jumped up and reached across the coffee table, grabbing Natasha's face in his beefy hand.

"You betray me, Natalia, and I won't hesitate to track him down and kill him," Barnes snarled.

"That won't be necessary," Natasha deadpanned.

A chill ran up Clint's spine because at that moment, he knew Natasha was serious. He knew what she was doing. She was giving herself up so no harm would come to him. This had happened in the past and as foolish as it was, he'd gone after her. Whether she liked it or not and whether she knew it or not, he was going to do it now.

Barnes held Natasha's gaze for a couple more seconds before releasing her from his grip. The assassin produced a knife from his pocket, flipped it open, and reached behind Natasha to release her from her binds. As Natasha rubbed her wrists, Barnes cut the ties that bound Natasha's feet to the chair. Clint had hoped she would knock him out as he was bent over, cutting her legs free, but they both knew that would cost Clint his life.

When Natasha's legs were free, Barnes jerked her into a standing position. The red head stumbled to her feet and fell into Barnes' side. The brainwashed assassin wrapped an arm around Natasha, pulling her closer into his embrace, before he started to drag her towards the elevators.

As they walked towards the elevators, Clint could hear faint murmuring as Barnes barked orders into an earpiece. But just as Barnes was about to press the button to call the elevator, he froze, turned on his heel, and marched back towards Clint. The archer braced himself as he saw Barnes' bionic arm reel backwards, its hand clenched into a fist, and propel forwards. He felt the Winter Soldier's fist collide with the side of his face and he saw stars immediately. His vision blurred once again but not enough to blur out Natasha's pained expression. Barnes hit him one more time. His vision swam again but his eyes went back to Natasha. He saw her mouth those three meaningful words to him before he blacked out for the second time that day.

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**Oh shit, where's Barnes taking Natasha? Will Clint be able to find her? Are the rest of the Avengers okay? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 16

**My apologies for the billionth time at the delay in updates. My fall semester started and I'm taking six classes this semester so updates may come very sporadically. But it was indeed Labor Day weekend so I cranked this out to hopefully hold you guys over until the big showdown. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

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_He was back in the dingy room. The sound of the _plink-plink_ of water droplets on the concrete echoed throughout the room. He was tied to the chair, his arms bound behind him with zip-ties. His torso was bare but he was wearing the pants to his SHIELD uniform. Despite the darkness of the room, the archer could still see, but only out of one eye. He'd received a beating the day before and his left eye had swollen shut._

_On the other side of the room, a small sliver of light escaped from beneath the door. But it wasn't long until dark shadows from the other side started to move, depleting the light that filtered through the small space between the door and the concrete floor. A low grumble of voices seeped through the small space underneath the door. At first, Clint couldn't understand a word they were saying but as he honed in on their voices, he caught wind of the conversation on the other side of the door._

"…_can't kill him?" groaned one of the voices._

"_You _will not_ kill him. Understood?" growled a second voice._

"_You work for HYDRA just like I do. I don't have to listen to you!" the first voice hissed._

"_Oh no, no, no, no, no, HYDRA is working _with_ me. Or, if anything, they're working _for_ me," the second voice chided. "You will follow my orders. You will not kill the Hawk."_

"_What's the point?" a third voice chimed in. "You're going to get what you want. Who cares if the Hawk lives or dies?"_

_There was a deafening silence, followed by a violent scuffle. Suddenly, the door rattled on its hinges and the light between the door and the ground decreased._

"_You will not kill the Hawk because _I_ will be the one to kill the Hawk," the second voice growled. "Understood?"_

_There was a pregnant pause before a small rattling filled the silent room. The shadows moved away from the door, allowing light to seep back into the dingy and dank room._

"_I need Natalia to continue to believe that the Hawk is still alive. If anything goes wrong, I will not hesitate to bring the Hawk front and center and execute him in front of her. It worked when the Red Room did it, it will work this time around."_

_In his half-conscious haze, Clint knew exactly who this was. He'd heard one too many stories about him from his partner, his girlfriend. He'd heard about their time in the Red Room together and how he'd treated her even worse than those behind the existence of the Red Room. But his hazy thoughts couldn't process this. After all the beatings and water boarding, Clint Barton couldn't quite process that he had been several feet away from the Winter Soldier._

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Ice cold water hit him smack dab in the face, coaxing him out of unconsciousness. He gasped for air, coughing and spewing the ice cold liquid from his airways as he sat up from his spot on the carpeted floor. He rolled onto his side, wiping the cool droplets of water from his face.

"My apologies, fair archer, but the Man of Iron insisted I wake you like this."

Clint coughed one more time before looking up to see the God of Thunder towering over him. Clutched in one of his meaty hands was a metal pail, which, undoubtedly, held the bucket of ice water that now coated him. Behind Thor stood Tony, who snickered with delight over the prank he'd just pulled on Clint.

The archer coughed one more time before pushing himself up onto his elbows. During his unconsciousness, the rest of his Avengers teammates must have found him and freed him from his binds. Clint contorted his body to search the room for Bruce and Steve. The Super Soldier was standing in the entrance to the kitchen while Bruce was standing by the elevators with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"How long was I out?" the archer choked out, coughing one more time.

"Not sure," Tony said as he stifled another snicker. "Barnes and his HYDRA gang left about 10 minutes ago and we found you maybe a couple minutes ago? It hasn't been long I'm supposing."

Suddenly, Clint jumped up from the floor, ignoring his soaked clothing and the throbbing pain in his temple. "He has Natasha!" he blurted out.

The Avengers stared back at Clint for several seconds, unable to process this information. Then, Tony broke the silence. "Well, I hate to say I told you so, but…I told you so."

The Avengers shot Tony nasty glares before Clint started to dart about the room maniacally. "We need to find them," the archer rambled as he paced the room. "How far do you think they've gotten? Can we track them? Do you think he's done something to her? Can we - ."

"Barton!" Tony bellowed. "Stop it. I've got it under control."

Clint stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Tony with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. "What are you talking about?"

"They stole my emergency Quinjet, which just so happens to be equipped with a tracking system. JARVIS is tracking them as we speak," Tony said proudly. The billionaire grinned from ear-to-ear, as if he was proud of this accomplishment.

Clint stared at Tony for several seconds, soaking in this information. When he finally understood, he marched across the room, balled his hand into a fist, and struck Tony across the face. The billionaire went toppling to the ground while the archer towered over him. Steve and Thor rushed to Clint's side, standing guard in case he struck again, while Bruce ran to Tony's side to check his face.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner, dipshit!?" Clint roared.

"Whoa, chill your nips, Legolas!" Tony shouted as he gently caressed the side of his face. "Look, I told you. That's the point. And the more time you spend wallowing over this, the farther away Natasha gets."

As much as Clint didn't want to admit it, Tony had a point. The longer they waited to act, the farther away Barnes and Natasha would get. "Yeah, okay," Clint sighed in agreement. He reached a hand out to Tony, offering to help him up. The billionaire flinched instinctively but then grabbed the archer's strong hand. Clint hoisted the billionaire to his feet and then stepped back to give him some space.

Tony brushed himself off, as if Clint's floor was positively filthy. When he was cleaned off, Tony cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling as if he was looking to the heavens. "JARVIS, status on Quinjet number 34?" the billionaire inquired.

"It appears they are headed due east over the Atlantic Ocean. My records indicate that they are headed for Moscow," the A.I. responded affirmatively.

_Moscow_, Clint thought snidely. _What the fuck are you doing, Barnes?_

"Thank you, JARVIS," Tony responded as he fixed the cuffs of his button-down shirt. "Prepare my suit. We have a Russian to retrieve."

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS replied once again.

"What next?" Bruce asked. "We don't have a Quinjet. Fury's going to be pissed that you lost the only one he loaned to you. There's no chance he'll give you another if you ask him."

Tony turned around to face the scientist. "Who said anything about asking?" A smirk played upon Tony's lips and the Avengers knew that they'd all be on Fury's shit list after this was over. "Now let's go!" Tony bellowed, clapping his hands together. "The longer we wait, the further away Barnes gets."

The Avengers nodded in agreement and then followed Tony to the elevator. They waited impatiently as the elevator rattled its way up the shaft to them. When it finally reached Clint's apartment, the chrome doors slid open and the Avengers stepped on. Their ride to the basement – also known as unofficial headquarters for the Avengers – was a silent one. Mentally preparing themselves for this was of utmost importance.

The elevator finally reached the basement and the doors opened to reveal a high-tech spacious room. The Avengers stepped off one-by-one and walked across the room to start suiting up. While everyone's apartments were equipped with safes to house each Avenger's suits and gear, they were also equipped with tubes that shot their gear right down to headquarters in the event they needed to strategize and suit up at a moment's notice. And like clockwork, their suits and gear were nestled in the tubes on the opposite side of the room, awaiting their owners.

Clint stepped off the elevator and followed in Tony, Bruce, and Thor's footsteps as they marched across the room. However, he was barely off the elevator when he heard Steve call his name. The archer stopped dead in his tracks and spun on his heels. The Super Soldier was standing right outside the elevator doors with his arms hanging heavily at his sides.

"Um," Steve muttered, staring down at the floor sheepishly. "A word, please?"

Clint glanced over at his shoulder to see his teammates suiting up. He sighed heavily before dragging his feet towards Steve. "Yeah," the archer mumbled. "What's up?"

"So, um, you don't exactly have a plan, do you?" Steve asked nervously, his eyes still trained on the floor.

"I never really do," Clint said, shaking his head.

"Well, let me tell you something, Clint," Steve said, finally raising his head to meet Clint's gaze. Steve's eyes were strong and determined. "Not having a plan will very well get you and the rest of us killed."

Clint rolled his eyes. He didn't want to be lectured right now; it was a waste of time. "Steve…" he whined.

"No," the blonde interjected. "I get it. You're only doing this to get Natasha back, but remember that you are not the only one going after her. You are part of a team and you are going to work with that team."

In the past, Clint never had anyone to rely on when it came to rescuing Natasha. It was always him and only him. In the end, he'd end up in the medical wing with a concussion, a couple broken bones, and countless stitches. Maybe this time around, that wouldn't happen. Or, at the very least, to a lesser extent.

"You know what, no promises that I won't do anything stupid, but I will do my very best to stick with the team," Clint said with a crooked smile.

"Scout's honor?" Steve asked jokingly.

Clint grinned. "Scout's honor."

"Hey!" Clint spun around and Steve's head snapped up. They noticed Tony standing on the other end of the room, suited up in his Iron Man suit and arms folded across his chest. Thor was holding Mjolnir while Bruce was wearing his specially designed pants that stretched without ripping when he turned into the Hulk.

"Will you two stop eye-fucking each other and get suited up?" the billionaire grumbled. "We're wasting time!"

Both Steve and Clint chuckled to themselves before jogging across the room to suit up. They dressed in record time under the watchful eye of Tony Stark. When they were ready, they headed out of the headquarters and into an awaiting car, driven by Happy of course, that would take them to the next step of their endeavor.

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**And they're off! Think they'll be successful in hijacking a Quinjet from the SHIELD base under Fury's watchful eye? Will Clint keep his promise? Or will he get into trouble as usual? Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please review, review, review! Let me know what you think!**


	18. Chapter 17

**I am trying so hard to update this and finish it, but this chapter is the big showdown! And it's pretty long so hopefully it will hold you over until I have time to update again. I hope you like it. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics below. They belong to The Calling.**

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_I know now, just quite how,_

_My life and love might still go on._

_In your heart, in your mind,_

_I'll stay with you for all of time._

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Five miles outside of Moscow, nestled within the dark cloud cover, was hijacked Quinjet #34. Inside, its occupants suited up, preparing themselves for the siege that was going to take place in a matter of minutes. The moment Tony had stolen the Quinjet from the SHIELD base, he'd disabled the tracking equipment so that Fury or any other SHIELD agent couldn't hunt them down. Stealing the Quinjet hadn't been easy; they'd barely gotten away. They were barely off the runway when Fury and several SHIELD agents started chasing them down.

But for the past several hours, it had been smooth sailing. There had been no contact from the SHIELD base. The Quinjet was running just fine. Of course tensions were running high among the teammates, but that was a given for the ticking time bomb that they were. The cloud cover was working to their advantage but based on JARVIS' weather reports, a blizzard was due to hit Moscow inside and out. That would either be a good or bad thing for the Avengers' upcoming siege.

For quite some time, the Avengers had sat in silence on the Quinjet, mulling their upcoming mission. Every so often, Tony would make an irritating comment or Thor would touch something he wasn't supposed to, then tensions would go from zero to sixty in less than two seconds. Other than that, the Avengers mostly kept to themselves, pensively concocting plans in their head that would hopefully get Natasha and everyone out safely.

With the exception of Thor, the Avengers had taken turns piloting and co-piloting the aircraft so they could think in peace and attempt to get some shut eye before it was too late. For the home stretch, Tony and Steve had volunteered to bring the Quinjet into the city while the rest of the Avengers got ready. As the Quinjet drew closer and closer to the city, Tony and Steve worked diligently so the Quinjet could enter the city unnoticed.

As Clint rose from his seat to suit up, the aircraft gave a violent lurch, sending the archer hurtling back into his seat.

"Sorry guys," Steve said apologetically as he tinkered away with the knobs and buttons on the control panel. "There's going to be a bit of turbulence. It looks like the storm is hitting sooner than we thought."

_Perfect_, Clint thought morbidly, rolling his eyes at the inconvenience.

Technically, it was a good thing. They could fly into the city unnoticed and possibly even reach the facility Barnes and Natasha were at without them knowing. Gaining access to the facility could even be easy too if the storm knocked out the power; Barnes would never know they're coming. It would be the exit strategy that would be a problem. If the storm got worse, leaving the city, even the country, could be a problem.

The aircraft jerked around as it cut through the dark clouds, rattling around its passengers. Nervously, Clint buckled his seatbelt. It was ironic that his codename was named after a bird, and yet, he felt nervous in flight. Then again, he wasn't the one piloting the aircraft at the moment.

Then, just as soon as it started, the turbulence ceased and the archer breathed a sigh of relief. He unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped from his seat to begin suiting up.

"Sir," JARVIS' voice cut through the silent cabin, garnering Tony's attention. "We are less than a quarter of a mile away from the facility."

"Thank you JARVIS," Tony said as he adjusted his headset. "Think you can do a scan of the facility for me?"

"I'll do my best, sir."

The Avengers sat in silence as they waited for JARVIS' reply. In the meantime, the Avengers continued to prepare themselves. Clint absentmindedly fiddled with his bow while Bruce nervously ran a hand through his unruly hair. After a few more minutes, JARVIS' voice returned.

"It seems that the facility is not on any form of lockdown," the A.I. said. "In fact, I believe it is the former site of the Red Room."

Clint opened his mouth of say something, but thought otherwise. Instead, Tony chimed in. "Excellent!" the billionaire exclaimed. "We can just waltz right on in."

"It can't be that easy," Bruce mused. "There's got to be more to it. Are there any guards?"

"A few, Dr. Banner," JARVIS replied, "two on the south side entrance and two on the north side. There is one entrance that you could enter unnoticed."

"Then we'll use that one," Tony said as he adjusted his suit. "Keep an eye on that one for me, JARVIS."

"Certainly, sir," the A.I. responded. "And might I add that you are approaching your destination."

"Thank you, JARVIS," the billionaire said and then removed the headset from his cranium so that he could attach the helmet of his suit.

Slowly and gently, Steve plunged the aircraft into a descent. The rest of the Avengers held on tight as they experienced some minor turbulence. Steering the aircraft clear of any buildings and historical structures, they landed just outside the city limits of Moscow, less than half a mile away from the dilapidated Red Room facility.

Immediately, the Avengers assembled, gathering up weapons and important gadgets needed for their mission. The back hatch to the Quinjet screeched open to reveal a snowy landscape with blizzard-like conditions surrounding them.

"All right boys!" Tony shouted over the howl of the wind. "We're going to enter through the east side of the building. It's a vent and all of us should be able to fit through it. And it's in a blind spot so none of the guards on duty should be able to see us."

The Avengers nodded in unison and then headed down the Quinet's ramp and into the blizzard. Instantly, they were bombarded with gale force winds and ice cold snowflakes. The snow had accumulated significantly already, which made traipsing roughly half a mile to the facility difficult.

What should've been a ten minute trek turned into double the amount. The Avengers reached the east side of the building in no time. Tony spotted the vent using his high-tech suit and made a bee-line for it. He pulled the cover off of the side of the building and motioned for his teammates to go first. One-by-one they slid in until Tony was the last one inside. He replaced the cover and then followed his teammates through the dank basement of the run down Red Room facility.

The building was eerily quiet and the Avengers wondered why Barnes would possibly bring Natasha here. It wasn't quite an ideal location for a date if that's what Barnes was aiming for. But for all the guards that were outside at the main entrances, it seemed that Barnes and Natasha were the only ones in the building, aside from the Avengers, so far.

"Where do you think they are?" Steve hissed through the dead silence.

"Not sure," Clint answered, shaking his head. "This place isn't too big though. It shouldn't take long for us to find them."

"Or for them to find us," Tony chimed in, the smirk evident in the tone of his voice.

Slowly and stealthily, the Avengers made their way through the crowded and dank basement. When they made it to the other side, they found the stairs, which seemed too worn down for use. At the top of the stairs was the door that led to the rest of the Red Room facility.

The Avengers stared at the stairs for several minutes, perplexed as to how they were going to proceed. The stairs certainly didn't look stable; it didn't seem like it'd be able to hold half of their weight. But they'd come so far. They couldn't back down now.

With a sigh, Tony turned to his teammates, his faceplate sliding upwards to reveal his face. "Ladies first?" the billionaire said with a smirk.

"Oh yeah? And how exactly do you expect us to get up there?" Bruce questioned.

"You guys are such babies," Tony pouted before sliding his faceplate back into place. He stepped forward and placed his foot on the bottom step. Applying pressure, he stepped up and set his other foot on the step as well. The wood gave out a sickening creak and the Avengers held their breaths, waiting for someone to notice the sound. When no one came running, the Avengers breathed a sigh of relief while Tony scoffed.

"Ha! It's fine," the billionaire said proudly. "Let's go."

Tony lifted his foot and stepped on the next step. Suddenly, a loud screeching noise emanated throughout the building, causing the Avengers' eardrums to quiver. Hastily, their hands shot to their ears, shielding them from damage. From above them, heavy footsteps pounded on the floor boards, growing closer and closer to the door.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Clint bellowed, his eyes nearly popping out of his eye sockets.

"This just makes it more interesting," Tony said.

The door at the top of the stairs burst open, revealing a group of guards clad in black tactical suits. Before the guards could make a move, Tony raised one of his hands and blasted them with the beams in his palms. The group was sent hurtling backwards and into the wall opposite the door, leaving the doorway wide open for the Avengers to escape through.

"Come on!" Tony shouted before he sprinted up the stairs.

One-by-one the Avengers followed the billionaire up the stairs, carefully so as not to go crashing through the eroded wooden steps. They reached the top of the stairs just in time to see more guards come marching around the corner.

"Legolas, go find Red," Tony ordered. "We'll fight them off."

For a split second, Clint couldn't quite process what Tony was saying. The advancing guards and Bruce's incessant trembling had his mind boggled. His teammates needed him but Natasha needed him too.

"Barton, go!" Tony shouted as he fired at the guards. Steve threw his shield across the hall, taking out two guards while Thor took out two more with Mjolnir. Bruce was still in his human form, but he was starting to grow green around the edges. The Hulk was bound to make an appearance soon.

Finally, it clicked for Clint. He had to go find Natasha and then they could fight their way out of there. Without another word to his teammates, he took off down the hall, away from the battle. The more he ran, the quieter the hall grew until the sound of the fight was no more. The hallway was pale white and dimly lit. There was only one door at the end of the hall and Clint would bet his bow that that was where Natasha was.

He took off at a jog down the hall before breaking out into a sprint. It seemed like the hallway was endless or constantly growing as he ran down the passageway. It just seemed like the more he ran, the farther away the door was getting. But after what felt like an eternity, he reached the door, crashing into it with a _bang_.

With shaking hands, he grabbed the door knob and pushed the door open to reveal a dank and dark room. At first, it didn't seem all too familiar but after hearing the _drip-drip_ of the water and smelling the mildew on the walls, Clint realized this was his very first prison. He'd been at the Red Room facility during his first few weeks of captivity and he hadn't even known it.

Then, he heard it, the smallest of whimpers coming from the dark room. It was a sound he hated hearing because it was the only sound that could send a shiver down his spine. He felt his legs carry him forward until he fell to his knees in front of his Russian assassin, who was tied to a chair.

"Nat," he breathed.

"What…are you…doing here?" she said breathlessly.

"Are you out of your mind?" Clint asked condescendingly. "I'm here for you."

The red head heaved a sigh, angry that the archer had come for her. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"Did you really think I wasn't going to come?" Clint asked as he started to pull at the rope binding her to the chair. It took him a while to free her ankle; the knot was really tightly wound around her limb. But when he did, he felt the clamminess of her skin. Something was wrong.

"Tasha, what did he do to you?" Clint raised his head to look at Natasha. Even in the dimly lit room, her emerald eyes shined like a thousand suns. When she didn't answer, Clint stood up and cupped her face with his hands. "Natasha, what did he do?"

The red head weakly shook her head. "Nothing," she mumbled. "He just injected me with some drugs to make me weak so I couldn't fight him off."

"Did he do anything else to you?" Clint asked nervously. He didn't want to know the answer, but in the event that Barnes had gone too far, Clint would make him pay for it.

"No," Natasha mumbled. "He didn't do that."

Clint breathed a sigh of relief. He pressed a quick kiss to Natasha's forehead before leaning down to continue untying the ropes. His fingers fumbled over the thick material, struggling to free the Russian assassin from her prison. Finally, he freed her other ankle from the ropes and he mumbled a celebratory "yes" under his breath before moving to her wrists.

Untying her wrists was easier. The rope was thinner and her wrists were small enough so that they were easy to slide out of the ropes as if they were coated in butter. When her second wrist was free, Clint moved to lift Natasha from her chair, sweeping her up bridal-style, before moving toward the door. However, there was someone blocking their way.

Smirking and leaning against the doorway was, of course, Barnes. Clint stopped dead in his tracks and Natasha's head dropped onto his shoulder. Her skin was unusually pale and clammy. If Clint didn't get her to Bruce as soon as possible, there was no telling if she'd make it.

The Winter Soldier pushed away from the door and slowly started to applaud Clint's rescue. His devious smirk was still displayed across his face as he paced forward, growing closer and closer to Clint and Natasha.

"Bravo, Barton," Barnes drawled. "What a performance. That was quite a rescue. I guess I should let you go now, huh?"

Clint stayed silent but his glare didn't falter. Barnes was buying some time, possibly until he could get more guards to back him up. The Winter Soldier was strong, but he was a coward.

"Just let her go," Clint said. "You can take me."

"That's not how things work around here," Barnes drawled.

"Then how _does_ it work?" Clint asked wearily. He really didn't want to have a friendly conversation with Barnes right now. For every second they stalled, the worse Natasha would get.

"You see," Barnes said, "you were never the target, Hawkeye. You were just the bait."

Clint furrowed his brow in confusion, unsure of where Barnes was taking this conversation.

"Natasha was always the objective," the Winter Soldier continued. "She's grown soft. She's forgotten all of her training and she's reverted back to the days of being a child. She's forgotten what the Red Room taught her."

And then it clicked. "You're brainwashing her," Clint stated.

"Exactly," Barnes said proudly with a toothy grin. "The first stage is almost complete. And HYDRA's been helping me develop the exact serum the Red Room used years ago to finish the process."

Clint shook his head. "No wonder Natasha dumped your sorry ass."

The grin disappeared from Barnes' face quicker than when it came. It definitely struck a nerve and Clint couldn't help but smirk to himself. To make matters even better, Barnes was struck in the back with a beam from Tony's Iron Man suit, sending him hurtling further into the dank room. Clint ducked out of the way, holding onto Natasha's still form for dear life. The Winter Soldier collided with the stone wall with a _crack_ and then he crumpled to the ground.

"Legolas, let's go!" Tony whined as he stepped into the room.

Clint stepped forward and started to hand Natasha off to the billionaire. Tony complied but looked at the archer with a confused expression. "Bruce needs to help her," Clint explained. "Barnes injected her with all kinds of drugs to start the brainwashing process. I need Bruce to revert it."

"Well, let's go. Our work here is done. We've got Romanoff, now we can go!" Tony said.

Clint simply shook his head. "Get her back safe. I have to deal with Barnes." From behind him, Clint heard Barnes let out a pained moan, signaling that he was coming to. They didn't have much time.

"Barton, we're not leaving you behind," Tony growled.

"This was never Natasha's fight. This was never _your_ fight. This is _my_ fight and I'm going to end it. Now, go!" Clint ordered.

Tony shook his head before adjusting his hold on the red head and then taking off down the hall. Clint didn't shut the door to the dingy prison until Tony had disappeared down the hall. He felt his chest constrict, pained that he never actually said goodbye to Natasha. She would get over it in time, but she'd probably never forgive him for purposely facing his own death.

From the other end of the room, the Winter Soldier stirred and Clint took a deep breath. Facing his demise had never felt so nerve-wracking.

* * *

Racing back to the Quinjet in a blizzard was not an easy feat, especially when one was carrying a 120-pound unconscious woman. But Tony accomplished it with ease, bursting through the door of the Quinjet and laying the Russian assassin on the floor. The rest of the Avengers huddled around the billionaire and the assassin, looks of concern on their faces.

"Bruce, she's been injected with a whole bunch of drugs. You've got to help her," Tony said breathlessly.

"Pardon me, but where is the Hawk?" Thor chimed in.

Tony sighed, hanging his head in defeat. "He stayed behind."

The Avengers stayed in silence for a couple seconds, as if they were holding a silent vigil for the possibly-fallen archer. After the uncomfortable bout of silence, Steve stomped across the Quinjet and picked up his shield.

"Not on my watch," the Super Soldier growled, stomping towards the door to the Quinjet.

"I will join you, Captain," Thor boomed as he followed Steve out the door.

"Bruce," Tony said as he stood up.

The doctor looked worse for wear, but it was merely a side-effect of turning into a giant, green rage monster. Bruce looked at Tony for a couple seconds before nodding. "I've got it under control."

Tony nodded before taking off into the blizzard to join Steve and Thor in hopes of bringing the marksman back alive.

* * *

Another blow to the chest caused Clint to fall onto his back. The wind was knocked out of his lungs and he fought to suck more air in. A black boot landed on Clint's chest and pressed into his sternum. Clint felt several ribs crack and the archer let out a cry of anguish.

Barnes chuckled mischievously before releasing the pressure from Clint's chest, but not before giving him a swift kick in the side. The archer cried out in pain as he curled up in a ball.

"I thought you were supposed to be the greatest marksman in the world, Barton," Barnes drawled. "You've been doing nothing but landing weak blows. You've barely touched me." The Winter Soldier squatted next to Clint and looked into his eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd guess you weren't even trying."

"You'd be right," Clint coughed wetly. He was in so much pain that he wouldn't be surprised if one of his ribs had punctured one of his lungs. That would explain the liquid that was currently making its way up his throat.

"I hate chivalry," Barnes said.

"That explains a lot," Clint shot back, which earned him another kick in the ribs. Every single limb in his body protested. His shoulder ached. His ankle throbbed. He could taste blood in his mouth. It was difficult to breath. He guessed it wouldn't be long until he started to see the light.

Barnes chuckled mischievously once again. "Hawkeye to the rescue." The Winter Soldier paused as he reached into his boot and pulled out a knife. "But Hawkeye will be no more once I'm done with him. Then there will be no one around to protect little Natalia Romanova."

"Her name's Natasha!" Clint spat.

"Educate yourself a bit, Hawk," Barnes said. "Natalia and Natasha are basically the same thing."

"She prefers Natasha," Clint gurgled. "Natalia's too much of a reminder of what she was like in the Red Room. So why don't _you_ educated _yourself_?"

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open and Clint felt his body be lifted off the ground. He was upright, his back pressed up against Barnes' chest with the knife pressed to his throat. Standing in the doorway were his teammates, poised and ready to fight.

"Barnes, let him go," Steve growled, his shield protecting the majority of his upper body.

"You don't scare me, pretty boy," Barnes scowled.

"Enough with the name calling," Tony said. He rolled his eyes just before the faceplate locked into place. He raised his hand and lit up his beams, but didn't fire. "Give him to us."

"Guys, go back to the Quinjet," Clint choked out but Barnes merely pressed the knife further into his throat. He could feel small droplets of blood escaping his flesh, but not enough to ultimately kill him.

"You people are pathetic," Barnes drawled. "You never give up, do you?"

"We could ask the same thing about you," Tony shot back. "You're one of those pathetic guys who chases after the girl that doesn't want him anymore."

"Shut up," Barnes growled, gripping Clint's injured shoulder with much force. The archer winced to cope with the pain.

"Let the archer go," Thor chimed in, gripping his hammer with white knuckles.

"Hey, Shakespeare, cool it!" Barnes snapped.

A growl escaped Thor's lips as he glared at Barnes. "Enough," he growled. "We mean you no harm if you give yourself up."

"Oh no, I intend to hurt him," Tony countered.

"Then let's dance." Barnes shoved Clint out of the way, causing him to crash into Thor. Tony and Steve sprinted forward and tackled Barnes to the ground. The trio fought, punching and kicking with every intention of hurting their opponent.

Suddenly, Tony was thrown to one side of the room while Steve was tossed to the other as if he were a rag doll. Barnes sprung up from the ground and glared at Thor and Clint. But from Steve's side of the room, his shield came whizzing by, hitting Barnes right in the hip. The Winter Soldier crashed to the ground while Steve's shield skidded across the concrete floor.

In the few seconds it took for Tony and Steve to attack Barnes, Clint had managed to muster up enough energy to fight. It wasn't much and he knew he'd be checking out soon, but it would be enough to help his teammates defeat Barnes.

The Winter Soldier had sprung to his feet once again but was tackled back to the ground when Clint lunged for him. The two men crashed onto the concrete floor with a _thud_ and Clint hoped he did some damage. Swiftly, Clint hit the Winter Soldier with a right hook and then with a left hook in quick succession. But Barnes had the upper hand. He shoved the archer off of him and quickly pinned him to the ground. He grabbed the knife from his boot once again but didn't have a chance to use it before he was catapulted across the room.

Towering over Clint was Thor, wielding Mjolnir with great strength. Barnes collided with the concrete wall, causing some of it to break apart, before crumpling to the ground once again. But he was up before any of the Avengers could even blink. The Winter Soldier ran at full speed towards Clint, but he never made it. Thor swung at him one more time, causing the man to go flying through the air.

With a sickening crack, Barnes hit the concrete wall again. He landed on his feet and stared down the archer. Barnes knew that this was their fight and their fight only. Clint narrowed his eyes to slit before sprinting towards Barnes. The two men collided but neither one of them faltered. A swift kick to Clint's gut caused him to double over but he elbowed Barnes in the ribs to elicit a similar response.

The two men fought as an equal opponent for the other. At times, Tony or Steve or Thor intervened, but only when they knew it was necessary. But Clint was getting tired and his adrenaline was wearing off. He couldn't give up now. He was going to finish this fight whether he liked it or not.

"Getting a little tired, Barton?" Barnes snarled as he grabbed Clint by the scruff of his neck.

The archer let out a yelp before hitting Barnes with a right hook. "Not in the slightest."

Suddenly, Barnes kicked the ground out from underneath Clint and then everything seemed to move in slow motion. Clint felt the weightlessness of freefall as he tumbled to the ground. He saw Barnes pull out his trusty knife. He watched as the Winter Soldier fell with the archer.

Then, Clint felt his back hit the concrete at almost the exact same time he felt the knife penetrate his chest. His warm and sticky blood started to ooze out of his skin and onto his SHIELD tactical gear. His head started to spin and his vision started to blur. And then, another sharp pain pulsed throughout his chest. A flash of red, white, and blue appeared in his line of sight and then Barnes was gone.

There was a loud ruckus but Clint didn't care about what was going on. All he knew was he was losing blood and he was losing it fast. At that moment, he regretted not saying goodbye to Natasha. She was going to kick his ass in the afterlife for sure.

There was a bang and a crash, then a blur of red filled Clint's blurry vision. Soft hands cupped the sides of his face and he wondered if he had died. There was no way this could be happening.

"Clint, you stupid, stupid fool."

_Natasha_.

"Sorry," the archer slurred as his eyes began to flutter shut.

"Goddammit, keep your eyes open!" the red-head growled.

"Can't."

"Yes you fucking can," the female assassin growled. "You're not getting away with this."

Clint wondered how this could be happening. Had Bruce helped her in time? Was this all a dream? He was losing blood pretty fast so there was a chance that this really was a dream. Natasha hadn't looked too good the last time he saw her. There was no chance she'd healed in time.

"Bruce!" Natasha shouted over her shoulder. "I need you over here!"

Bruce appeared in Clint's field of vision moments later, a look of concern displayed on his face. He furrowed his brow as he gingerly inspected Clint's wounds, especially the knife wound.

"I called for a medical evac. I figured we'd need it. They should be here soon," Bruce said.

"Are you crazy? After all that you guys have done, you called SHIELD?" Natasha asked condescendingly as she gingerly cradled Clint's head in her lap.

"I panicked, okay?" Bruce squawked. "You need it, too."

"I'm fine," the red-head assassin spat before turning her attention back to the wounded archer in her lap. "Clint, don't you dare die on me now."

"No promises," Clint coughed wetly. "You know how I like to break promises."

"Well, you're not breaking this one. Promise me you won't die on me."

"Nat, I can't – ."

"_Promise me_," she snarled.

"Tasha, I think I see Phil."

Natasha's breathing hitched and her throat constricted. The corners of her eyes stung and she realized this was something she hadn't experienced since she was a child. She was crying and she didn't think she could stop.

"_No_," the female assassin growled. "_No_, you're _not_ going with Phil. You're staying here with me because we're going to get married."

"W-what?"

Natasha swallowed the lump that was building up in her throat. She closed her eyes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked down into the blue eyes of the only person who ever understood. "Ask me."

"Ask you what?" Clint choked out.

"Ask me to marry you."

In Clint's fatally injured state, it took him a couple seconds to process what she really wanted. When he understood, a weak smile tugged at his lips. "Natasha Romanoff, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Natasha said, her voice shaking. "Yes, a thousand times, yes."

"Perfect."

And then Clint's world faded to black.

* * *

**So yeah, that will hold you over, right? No? Yeah, I didn't think so. Take a deep breath. I'll try not to take forever to update again, especially since I really want to finish this story. I didn't intend for it to take this long to write. Stay tuned!**

**As always, thank you for adding this to your favorites, signing up for alerts, and reviewing. Reviews are greatly appreciated and they make me happy so please leave me a lovely review to let me know what you think!**


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